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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27402793">In Their Darkness: A Super Paper Mario Story Collection</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MichaelToastman/pseuds/MichaelToastman'>MichaelToastman</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Nintendo, Super Mario &amp; Related Fandoms, Super Paper Mario (Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Nintendo - Freeform, Super Paper Mario, Video Game, Wii, paper mario - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:40:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,724</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27402793</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MichaelToastman/pseuds/MichaelToastman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tensions are high, and all throughout the universes, everyone is feeling the effects of Count Bleck's plans to fulfill the Dark Prognostics and destroy every Universe. No one is exempt from this. Our heroes aren't, of course, as they try and stop Count Bleck's plans, but not even Bleck's minions who work against them are safe from their own thoughts during these dark times. This is a collection of these thoughts; their worries, scheming, and challenges, all presented from their own point of view in their own stories. </p><p>  I (obviously) do not own any characters in this story, and do not claim to. This story does not intend to present itself as canon, and although it aligns with the main story of Super Paper Mario, some smaller details might have been changed for the sake of story telling. I wrote this after realizing how much more fleshed out Mr. L could have been, so these changes have been made simply to fit my version of the narrative or flesh out the characters.<br/></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. My Lost Lady</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> Count Bleck sat slumped over in his old arm chair in his room. He was alone. The room was dark and cold, but that was exactly how he liked it. For longer than he could remember, sitting in the cold dark was an important part of his daily routine. It gave him time to think without distraction, and having the lights off was very soothing, as he often found himself getting headaches from the brightness of the world outside of his dark castle. As for the temperature, though, Bleck just liked it cold. It just felt to him that it should just be that way. He had felt that way ever since Lady Timpani was taken from him. It was like he was never quite able to appreciate the feeling of warmth ever the same after that. Perhaps it was because there was no warmer person in all of the universes than his Timpani. Something about the way she smiled, the kindness she spoke, and the serenity Bleck felt when he was with her - they all came together in perfect harmony and had warmed Bleck’s heart with her love he never knew elsewhere.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  When he first heard the news about what had been done to Timpani, straight from his wretched father’s mouth, he wasn’t able to react right away. At that exact moment, the warmth inside Count Bleck himself was also lost. Yet, he wasn’t sure how he felt at the time; was he sad? Angry? Perhaps scared? He hadn; really felt any of those things, he had just felt… cold. Where once there was a flame lit within Bleck that kept him going, was now nothing. Timpani was the only one who was able to kindle that flame, and when there was no one to tend to it, it died out, leaving simply nothing in its place. Long ago, this lack of flame caused his heart to freeze over. No fire to keep him warm just created ice to close him off. Now he so desperately wanted to feel that warmth and love again, but it had been so long, that he wondered if he even could anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Count Bleck put his head in his hands, though he did not cry. Timpani would not want him to cry, so he held back his tears, for her. He thought about her all too much, though, so neither holding back his tears or thinking ever got any easier.That’s why he was doing all of this, to get rid of that pain and struggle for good. His own death wouldn’t be enough. He needed to avenge her, and make all of reality pay for what was done to him. Bleck still needed to prove to his long passed father that what he did had dire consequences. He hoped his father knew that this was all this fault on his deathbed, when Bleck never came to his side and only showed up at his funeral to spit on his grave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Surely, this is what Timpany would have wanted. Or, at least that’s what Bleck told himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  There was a soft knock at the door. Count Bleck raised his head slowly and took a second to breathe. Then, he pulled on his usual collected facade. “Who is it?!” he demanded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “It’s me, my count.” A voice responded, muffled by the thick wooden door. It was strangely indistinct to Bleck; he was just so tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “And who is me? I can’t hear you and I am not a fan of vague responses. Speak up!” Bleck scoffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Um,” the person at the door hesitated, “it’s Nastasia, my count.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  I should have known it was Nastasia, Bleck thought. Despite so many people living in the castle, no one other than her ever bothered to visit him unless it was an emergency or they wanted money, or something. Nastasia, though, being in charge of organizing the plans and taking care of the lesser minions, was a regular visitor. She would frequently stop by to offer updates on plans and schemes, and sometimes even just to make sure Bleck was ok, as he often needed reminding to take care of himself. “Oh, then please come in.” he replied calmly, as though he hadn’t been aggravated only moments before.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>   As the door slowly opened, light began to flood into the pitch black room. Bleck had been sitting in the dark for so long that the sudden change hurt his eyes. He covered himself with his cape like a frightened vampire to protect his eyes from the pain. “Shut the door!” he demanded loudly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Um, yes, my Count,” Nastasia said as she quickly shut the door behind her, “Um, with all do respect, it is rather dark in here... I’m having trouble seeing, so I’m going to light this candle, K?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Do as you wish with the candle, but please be quick with your briefing,” Bleck sighed. He stood up and flattened out his cape, “I have to admit; I am not much in the mood for a visit right now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “I understand - I just have a few things I needed to run over with you. There have been some new developments I need your input in.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Yes, yes… go on.” Bleck nodded, agreeing half heartedly as he waved her on without looking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Yes, um..”, Nastasia cleared her throat, “The good news is that most of Bowser’s minions have brainwashed to your side now. There are still two goombas unaccounted for, though. We will definitely convert them as well, um... but other than that, they are all loyal to you now. Um… the bad news… Yes. Unfortunately, we still don’t have proper sight of the foretold hero. We are sure he’s out there, of course, and -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Count Bleck had been listening at first, but eventually his interest was lost. He didn’t have the heart to care right now. Only one pure heart had been found, anyway, so he still had time. So, his thoughts of Lady Timpani began to take up his mind again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was strange that Bleck spent so much time thinking about her, when he couldn’t actually remember that much. Her loss was so long ago and he had been so angry for so many years that his memory of her seemed to have become broken. He desperately tried to remember her exactly as she was, but something was always missing. At the least, he could remember she was kind. That was the thing he loved the absolute most about her. He also remembered she was beautiful, and how different she looked to anyone he had seen from his own tribe. He remembered how long it took him to see her as this about her, just because she was human, and regretted not appreciating it from the start. He should have known their time would be so short. The last thing he remembered was the way she glowed in the sun.When they stood alone in the fields between their homes, he would just watch the ways she shone with her dress gently blowing in the breeze forever. She was beautiful and mesmerizing and kind and perfect all together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  That was all he had left her though. Bleck so desperately wished he could recall her voice, what it sounded like when it called his name, or how her hair smelled, and how it felt when it brushed against his skin. He wanted to remember her laugh, her humor, and even her anger and pains. He wished he could experience these things just one last time - the good, mostly, but even the bad if he meant he got to see her again. He wished that he could convince himself that she wasn’t really gone, and finally move on, but years of wishing had got him nowhere, and now it was time for action.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Count Bleck?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Suddenly, Bleck was pulled back to reality. How long had Nastasia been talking? How long had it been since she started calling out to him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Count Bleck? Are you ok?” Natasia repeated. There was genuine worry in her usually very calculated voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Oh, erm. Yes,” Bleck said, trying to seem confident and not stutter. Just then, he realized that he had subconsciously sat back down again, and was slumped over in his chair once more. When he realized this, he immediately sat back up in a futile attempt to look collected, “Continue, please, Nastasia .” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Nastasia hesitated, looking around awkwardly for a second before beginning to speak again, “K… I mean, yes, my count. Uh… As I was saying, I just need your approval to initiate plan B.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Plan B…?” Bleck mumbled, trying to remember. He was the one who came up with every single plan and phase, of course, but right now he wasn’t at his best and couldn’t remember anything about them.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>  “Yes, plan B. The one where Mimi disguises herself and tricks Mario into indebting himself to her. Do you not remember?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Oh, yes, yes. Of course I remember. Of course, go ahead and through with it. I entrust that you are able to properly make these decisions, and Mimi with doing what O’Chunks obviously could not do. Frankly, we should have gone with her in the first place.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Yes, I totally agree. I will send her on it right away.”, Nastasia nodded as she penciled it into her notes. After finishing her notes, Natasia blew out the candle and went to leave. She stopped when she reached the door though, holding it half way open as she asked, “Was it her you were thinking about, Bleck?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Bleck was silent for a moment. He looked away and held his head low. He was ashamed she could tell so easily. “Yes. Not a word to the minions.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Of course not. You can trust me.” And with that, Natasia left</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Bleck was now  alone again. He slowly sunk back into his chair, tired and feeling emptier than ever. It was dark, it was cold, and right now, he missed his Timpani more than ever. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. His Lost Lady</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>  Natasia walked down the empty halls of lonely Castle Bleck. In her hand, papers littered with statistics and predictions only she could decipher neatly organized on a clipboard, and in her ear, a fresh pen, ready to scribble down notes and make appointments and plans. She had been mentally preparing for this appointment for a while now. Times were tense, and unfortunately, Natasia had to battle with more than just the hero foretold in the prognostics.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Although, at any given time, the castle was teeming with Count Bleck’s minions, Natasia never felt so alone as when shen was in the castle walls. As managed her duties throughout all the different rooms, she passed by many goombas, koopas, and even the higher ranking minions, O’Chunks, Dimentio, and Mimi, Natasia never felt so alone. The only time she felt she truly felt anything was when she was with Count Bleck. Ever since he had saved her life so many years ago, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. At first, she just thought what she was feeling was immense gratitude, which is why she had pledged her services to Bleck in the first place, but as time went on, she realized whatever she was feeling was something more. Natasia knew it was wrong to feel this way - she was his boss, and he would clearly never stop mourning his lost lady - but Natasia couldn’t help it. He was handsome, sure, but that wasn’t why Natasia had fallen in love with him. It was his personality, his strength, and his brokenness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> If he would just give me a chance, she found herself thinking time and time again, I could fix him. I could heal his broken heart and be the lover she never could have been...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Natasia took a deep breath and carried on walking at an abnormally brisk pace. Usually, she was so  busy with work that she was able to block out those unwanted thoughts about Count Bleck, but today had been very slow, and even more unproductive. With most of Bower’s troops totally obedient now, and O’Chunks firmly on track with his post failure apology essay, the only thing she really had now was her daily rendezvous with the count. If Dimentio had been anywhere to be found, Natasia might have a word or two with him about his distant behavior, but naturally, he had mysteriously disappeared as soon as the last meeting had ended, and hadn’t been seen since. For now, though,Natasia just needed to focus on getting this meeting with Bleck out of the way. She usually enjoyed these brief moments she had alone with him to take in all the things she loved about him so much, but today she just felt… sick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Natasia took another deep breath and adjusted her slouching posture. She had arrived at Count Bleck’s room, and now the only thing that stood between her and her feelings was a huge, dark wooden door. When she thought she was ready, she knocked so hard she felt as though her knuckles might break. More often than not, when the Count was alone, he became so absorbed in his plans and thoughts that he wouldn’t hear anything that wasn’t alarmingly loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   After a worrying moment of silence, Count Bleck finally responded with “Who is it?!” His voice was cold and impatient. Natasia could already tell he was not going to be very focused today.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>   Natasia hesitated to respond, shifting her the papers on her clipboard nervously. “It’s me, my count.” she eventually managed to reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “And who is me?”, the Count scoffed, “I can’t hear you and I am not a fan of vague responses. Speak up!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Um,” Natasia gulped. She regretted disturbing Bleck already, even though what she had to say was important, “it’s Nastasia, my count.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  There was another pause that felt like an eternity before Bleck finally said “Oh, then please come in.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Natasia opened the door slowly, worried that its creak would anger Bleck. Immediately, a freezing draft flooded out of the room and hit Natasia in the face. As she continued to open the door, Natasia noticed how dark the room was. She couldn’t see anything. It was a depressing sight, and Natasia knew that Bleck’s thoughts had to have been just as depressing for him to willingly sit in a room like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut the door!” Bleck shouted. There was enough light in the room from the hallway for Natasia to see him clearly now. It shone directly on him, revealing that he was sitting in the furthest most corner of his spacious room, covering his face with his cape. It looked like the light was causing him pain, and Natasia felt guilty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Um, yes, my Count,” Natasia closed the door quickly, hoping to be forgiven for opening it at all. With the door shut, though, the room was scarily pitch black. Natasia had notes to read and generally felt uncomfortable not being able to see, “Um, with all do respect, it is rather dark in here... I’m having trouble seeing, so I’m going to light this candle, K?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Do as you wish with the candle, but please be quick with your briefing,” Natasia looked up as she lit the candle. It gave off just enough light for her to see Bleck waving her on without even looking up, “I have to admit; I am not much in the mood for a visit right now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Natasia’s heart sunk. Bleck was always very closed off, but Natasia had always assumed he enjoyed when she visited. He never visually lit up or anything, but his voice was different when he spoke to her. Not warmer or more affectionate, but more… attentive? Focused? Natasia found that it was subtlety to describe. “I understand - I just have a few things I needed to run over with you. There have been some new developments I need your input in.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Yes, yes… go on.” Bleck sighed begrudgingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Natasia tried to hide the disappointment regarding his disinterest in her in her face. Was he even invested in this plan, anyway? He almost seemed to only be doing it because it was expected of him. Natasia certainly wasn’t as invested as she pretended to be. She understood why Bleck was doing this, but it just didn’t seem right. She could fix him, if he gave her the chance… he just knew it. Maybe Natasia could break through to him before he went through with it. If she could stop Bleck from destroying all worlds, maybe he would finally see her as the girl he needs in his life, and they could live happily ever after. Natasia thought about it, but ultimately she shouldn't say anything. It wasn’t her place - she was just here repaying her debt from the count saving her life. Yes, that was all. If it wasn't for him, she wouldn’t be here right now and she needed to just be appreciative and cooperative before all suffering would be laid to its end anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Yes, um..”Natasia began, putting her treasonous thoughts aside, hoping she’d never bring them back up again, “The good news is that most of Bowser’s minions have brainwashed to your side now. There are still two goombas unaccounted for, though. We will definitely convert them as well, um... but other than that, they are all loyal to you now. Um… the bad news… Yes. Unfortunately, we still don’t have proper sight of the foretold hero. We are sure he’s out there, of course, and I think he’s met up with the princess. They seem to be working together. Perhaps she is the second hero the Light Prognosticus predicts… Um, yes, and while I am thinking about it, Mimi has been asking for a bigger room, so you’ll want to take care of that before she gets angry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Natasia paused. Count Bleck had sat back down now, and was clearly daydreaming. That distant look in Bleck’s eyes, his uncharacteristic slumped posture, the way he gripped the arm rests so firmly… Natasia had seen it so many times; Bleck thinking about her again… lost in his own thoughts. Not listening to a word she said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Natasia squirmed and fiddled with her notes uncomfortably as she tried to figure out what she should do. Part of her wanted to just let him be, but he was the one who wanted to carry out the Dark Prognosticus, not her. He needed to be the one to make the decisions. Maybe this was her chance to try and change his mind though… but if Bleck wouldn’t even listen to things that were important to him, would he ever even hear if Natasia begged for him to stop the plans?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  No, I’m not supposed to be thinking about that, she thought angrily. She looked down in shame and felt as her face got hot with anger. When she looked back up and Bleck was still looking into the distance blankly. He was still off in his own thoughts. Natasia was glad he didn’t see that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Natasia took a deep breath and collected herself. Finally, she called out “Hello? Are you getting this, my count... Count Bleck?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  No response. Natasia was worried she might have to grab and shake him to bring him back. She worried about what she would feel if she had to do this, as sometimes, when their skin brushed by accident on their way to meetings, her heart felt like it could explode and her brain began to crave more. Or sometimes, when she felt the most alone, she wondered what it was like to hold his hand, or to lay on his chest and hear his heartbeat. She wanted this more than anything… </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Natasia felt herself blush and she tried to banish the thoughts from her mind. She needed to focus. “Count Bleck? Are you ok?” She repeated. There was genuine worry in her usually very calculated voice. Just when she was going to reach out and shake him, though, Bleck finally seemed to snap out of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Oh, erm. Yes,” Bleck coughed slightly. Natasia could tell he was trying to play it cool, and felt awkward, “Continue, please, Nastasia .” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “K… I mean, yes, my count. Uh…”, Natasia thought. She didn’t know where she had left off. She glanced down at her notes, frantically trying to remember, but still couldn’t  find her place. In a moment of quick thinking, she just decided to pick up at the end and save some time, “As I was saying, I just need your approval to initiate plan B.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Bleck seemed confused. “Plan B…?” he mumbled thoughtfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Yes, plan B.”, Natasia interjected, “The one where Mimi disguises herself and tricks Mario into indebting himself to her. Do you not remember?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Oh, yes, yes. Of course I remember. Of course, go ahead and through with it. I entrust that you are able to properly make these decisions, and Mimi with doing what O’Chunks obviously could not do. Frankly, we should have gone with her in the first place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Natasia nodded and pretended to write something down. Of course he trusted her to make these decisions. It was her job. This whole meeting had been pointless, and Natasia should have known better than to expect anything different, or much at all, from the distant count. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  When Natasia finished her meaningless scribbling, she clicked her pen and stuck it with her papers. She headed for the door to leave, blowing out the candle on her way, but then paused. Her stomach churned. She had a question she wanted to ask, but was too afraid to do so. She knew she wouldn’t like the answer, but she just wanted to be sure. Maybe he was actually over her. Maybe he would - could change his mind. So, with a gulp, she asked “Was it her you were thinking about, Bleck?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  For a moment, Bleck was silent. He seemed to really think over something for a while before finally giving the gut punching answer Natasia was so afraid of. “Yes. Not a word to the minions.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Of course not. You can trust me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  After that, Natasia quickly left. She hastily shut the door behind her and pressed herself against the wall, holding her clipboard tightly to her chest. She felt as tears welled up in her eyes, but she refused to let any flow. She wanted away from this place. From this room, from this castle - from this story line. She collected herself as much as she could and began to walk as fast as she could away to her own room. There, she would be able to cry alone, in peace, but she was stopped by Mimi before she could reach that sanctuary. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “So, you were talking to the count?”, Mimi twirled her dress innocently as she spoke.  Natasia didn’t answer, which made Mimi mad. She managed to continue to prod Natasia calmly, though - for now, at least, “When will I be getting my new room? Will it have a nice view? Lots of space?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Natasia stopped walking and sniffed. She descritley wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and said. “He didn’t say anything about your new room, be patient, K?” She kept her eyes on the ground in front of her as she spoke, and was in no mood for Mimi’s immature antics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mimi frowned angrily. “Ok, but I’ll have you know, I -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Natasia cut her off. “Later Mimi. Count Bleck has approved of Plan B. If you could focus on your job, that would be great.”, Mimi began to pout, but Natasia just continued anyway, “Pull this off, and I will give you my own room if I have to, K?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mimi stopped pouting after she heard that last promise. She seemed to flutter in excitement as she said “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that pesky plumber.” with a giggle, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>   Natasia nodded. “Don’t let the count down.” She said before beginning to walk again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “You’ve got it! I’ll have his heart on a platter just for you tomorrow! Don’t worry about a thing!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Natasia snorted quietly to herself. “Don’t worry”; she hardly knew the meaning of the phrase. Right now, there was nothing in the world not to worry about, and soon enough, there wouldn’t even be a world to worry in anymore anyway.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Spider In A Web</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>  Mimi squealed as she slammed the door to her room. She had managed to contain herself all the way down the halls to her room, but she could no longer hold back her excitement. She felt as though he was going to explode in joy; she was FINALLY getting the room she deserved! The only thing standing in her way was those pesky bugs trying to stop the count, but she knew she could squash them no problem. Mimi had a sort of plan - although she’d do it if she must, Mimi was a bit squeamish to fighting, but she wasn’t a stranger to seduction and slavery in any way. She hadn’t quite figured out how she’d get Mario to give himself to her, but he was a man after all, and therefore naturally stupid and horny, so she knew it couldn’t be very hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mimi fluttered her yellow dress as she admired it in the mirror. She had worn this dress for as long as she could remember. She loved how it fit her, and how it made her stand out among her drab-dressed contemporaries. When she had first laid her eyes on the dress, she instantly knew it was her, and when she put it on that only confirmed her feelings. She had worn a few outfits since, but none had made Mimi feel as whole as her little yellow dress. She loved the compliments she got when she wore it too - her friends and strangers alike all made her feel so good when they complimented her outfit. “Mimi, you’re so pretty in that dress”, they’d say, “I’m so jealous of that dress. It fits your personality so perfectly.” It just all made her feel whole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Mimi looked down at her dress and frowned. She could never compete with that bimbo Peach for Mario’s attention in an outfit like this. Peach was a princess, so she wore a much more elegant dress. Mimi could never even dream of having a dress so nice, which is why she’d really have to step up her game if she wanted her plan to succeed. As much as she loved her dress, men only cared about flash and flesh, so Mimi opened her closet and huffed and looked through her closet. It was jam packed with all sorts of rarely worn outfits, but nothing stood out as good enough to Mimi. She didn’t have a single outfit that would be enough to compete with Peach. Her dresses were too plain, her shirts were all too common, and her skirts were all too long. If she couldn’t find the perfect outfit, Mario would never choose her over that slut! Mimi could just kill him and be over with it, but deep down, she knew she craved the attention. She felt so powerful when boys swooned over her, and begged her to stay as they graveled at their knees. Young petty boy or gross middle aged, mushroom guzzling Italian - it didn’t matter who, just that they worshiped her and bowed down at every command. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mimi slammed her closet door with a “hmph!” and crossed her arms. Since I don’t have any good outfits, maybe I should be someone else, she thought. She decided to transform into Princess Peach first. Mimi rubbed her hands down the sides of her new body and through her long, golden blonde hair. What if she tricked Mario into believing that she was the real Peach…? no, that was over used and cliche. Mario would be able to see through that in an instant. He probably knew Peach better than Mimi could imitate the bitch. Who else could she try? What about the princess from Sarasaland? She transformed into her, but quickly realized that wouldn’t work either. She couldn’t even remember that princess’ name (Petunia? Rose? It was some sort of loser flower name), so no way she’d be able to mimic her personality well enough to fool Mario. Mimi racked her brain for anyone else who might work, but every single person she thought of just presented new problems. At one point, she even considered pretending to be Luigi Mario, until she realized she couldn’t seduce Mario as his socially inept brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mimi was only getting more frustrated. She transformed back into her innocent girly and sat down on her bed in a pout, with her arms crossed and her mouth pulled into a tight frown. She looked down at the base of her bed and saw her dress, laying messily crumpled and forgotten. The dress seemed sad, like it was pleading to be picked up and worn again. Mimi’s frown softened up into sadness at first, but she quickly became angry again, and kicked the dress across the room. It landed by the mirror, even more crumpled than before now. Mimi made a “humph!” noise and looked away. Stupid dress, trying to guilt trip her. She had already said that it wouldn’t work, and that was that. No matter how sad and pathetic the dress made itself look, Mimi was not going to give in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Just to prove her point, Mimi transformed into her true, spider like form. Her legs were now long and spindly, and her body was much like a crumbled cube - she didn’t need to wear any dress in this form, even if there was a place on her body for it in the first place. She laughed and looked down at the dress. Who needed who now? Using her leg like a claw, Mimi picked up the dress and laughed maniacally again. Suddenly, an urge came over her. She should destroy the dress; really teach it a lesson. So Mimi suddenly tore the dress into tiny pieces, leaving only strips of tattered fabric layed strewn across the floor in a distressed manner in its place. Mimi cackled, her voice booming louder than ever now. She felt so powerful, but that feeling faded away when she realized what she had done. Soon, her maniacal laughing devolved into crying, and Mimi transformed back into her humanoid form and collapsed on the floor in the middle of the remains of her once beloved dress. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mimi could barely see as tears clouded her eyes, but she could still recognize the yellow and white blobs of her dress that surrounded her. The sight of it only made Mimi cry harder. Why did she do this? She couldn't even understand her own motives. This dress was her absolute favorite and she ruined it, for what? To prove something? To who? The dress had given her a sense of self, and made her feel confident as herself. The dress was practically a part of her, and now it was gone... Mimi was so mad at herself she could barely take it. She wished she could just crawl into a whole and die, though, she didn’t even want to be around herself right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mimi picked up the torn collar of the dress and tried to throw it against the wall, but it simply swayed in the air for a moment before falling back down at her feet. She angrily whipped tears for her eyes as she let out an angry deep breath. She didn’t need that dress anyway. She could wear whatever she wanted, she could be whatever she wanted to be even without it. She could be a queen who wears a beautiful dress, or a horrible turtle wearing spiked bands. She could be  the Count, Mr. L,  Dimentio - even O’Chunks if she wanted. Why did she need her own identity anyway? Besides, no matter how much she loved that dress, it wasn’t coming back anyway. Mimi wiped her tears, deciding not to waste her energy on it anymore. What was done was done, end of story. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mimi sniffed as she walked back over to her closet. She needed an outfit still, so she just grabbed the first thing she saw - a maid costume. Good enough, she thought as she pulled the tight dress over her head, I’ll figure out what to do with it later. She stuffed the headband on her head as she still tried to think of a concrete plan, but she still had nothing. She figured she could head to the next pure heart location, Merlee’s Mansion, and figure it out there while she waited for Mario. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mimi stomped out of her room. With her eyes focused entirely in front of her, she didn’t even notice as O’Chunks, who had just been minding his own thoughtless business as he was making his way through the hall, nearly jumped out of his skin as she yet again slammed her door so hard it shook the castle walls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Geez, lassie! Ye nealy scared me out o' mah own skin!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mimi shrugged. She didn’t care about O’Chunks normally; much less right now. “So what?” she scoffed as she kept walking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  O’Chunks frowned, but he wasn’t going to say anything else until he noticed her outfit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What on Earth are ye wearin’? That’s no outfit fer a young lady like yew!” he asked, concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “It’s a maid outfit?!”, Mimi rolled her eyes, “How dumb are you? Sheesh!” She wished she had thought of a better retort, but it was hard to focus on thinking of sassy replies when she was busy walking as angrily as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “But what happened to yer cute yellow dress? Teh one with teh dots!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   Mimi stopped walking and clenched her fists. “WHAT DOES IT MATTER?! FUCK OFF!” she yelled, avoiding looking at O’Chunks. She could feel as tears filled her eyes, and even as a few made their way down her cheek, but she didn’t want O’Chunks to see it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  O’Chunks stuttered for a moment, very taken aback at Mimi’s seemingly sudden outburst. “Er, uh… calm down, lassie. I didn’ mean nothin’ by that. I jus’ thought it was yer favorite.”, He paused, clearly struggling to think of what to say next, “I, erm, think this maid outfit looks okey on yeh, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “It WAS my favorite,” Mimi mumbled, “but it’s gone now so that doesn’t even matter.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>  O’Chunks didn’t know what Mimi meant by “gone”; all he knew was that she was very clearly upset. She was doing a very poor job hiding her tears as they poured down her cheeks. O’Chunks wanted to comfort her the best he could, even if it wasn’t a lot of help. “Oh, Mimi, o’ course it matters. Ye liked it, after all, so if yer upset it’s gone, it makes a lot ‘o sense. I really liked it too, ye know? It really said “Mimi”.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “You think so?” Mimi sniffed, calmer now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Yeah I do!” O’Chunks said as he playfully punched Mimi in the shoulder. He had forgotten his own strength, though, and ended up hurting her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Ow…”, Mimi mumbled, trying to decide to ignore that, “Well, I’m glad you liked it but it’s gone, so get over it. You’re going to make me miss it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  O’Chunks frowned yet again. “Seems teh meh that ye already do… ye know, I don' know what happened teh it, an’ wouldn’ know about where teh get it… but, eh, would ye like me to get a new one for yeh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “You’d… you’d really do that for me?” Mimi said as she finally looked up at O’Chunks. He was smiling goofily at her. Although Mimi assumed it was an attempt at coming off as friendly to make her feel better, it only made her feel somewhat uncomfortable instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Yeah, I said I would, didn’ I? Why would I say that, ‘n then not dew it? So ye want it or not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mimi paused and thought before finally giving her reply. A simple, yet firm “Sure.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  O’Chunks smiled even wider now. “Aye, now that’s teh spirit, lassie. Ye just tell me where and I’ll get it for ye, ok? I gotta go work out know, though, but if ye need me, I’ll be outside in teh courtyard.” O’Chunks slapped Mimi on the back, this time careful not to hurt her, and began to walk off down the hall again, whistling some sort of mangled tune. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mimi just watched O’Chunks go in silence for a while, occasionally sniffing and whipping her tears until he was finally out of sight. He had no reason to be so kind to her, he still tried to comfort her, and even offered to buy her a gift. Mimi felt bad for how she had treated him in the past, calling him names and insulting his intelligence. As Mimi began to walk again, she made a note to never bully O’Chunks again, and to remember to get a gift for the first man to actually treat her with genuine kindness.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Brawns Over Brains</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> O’Chunks walked through the courtyard of Castle Bleck, on his way to his work out spot. As he strolled, he gazed into the clouds and listened to the wind as it forced its way through the trees and the bushes. The sun wasn’t very bright today, he thought. O’Chunks had a bad feeling that caused this glum weather. Maybe god was punishing him. Surely, if he was real, he wouldn’t be very happy with this path O’Chunks had taken with the Count. He was very clearly a bad guy, but O’Chunks wasn’t here for morals and thinking. He was just here to punch stuff. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  After what felt like forever, O’Chunks finally reached the work out rock. He wiped some sweat off of his forehead and sat down on the ground with a huff. Castle Bleck was so huge; he wondered how anyone ever made it anywhere in the blasted place. He had spent all of his energy just walking here, and wasn’t sure if he had the energy to work out anymore. Now was no time to give up on his routine, though. For weeks, O’Chunks had been training and working his way up to lifting heavier and heavier rocks. It started as just a way to pass time as he waited for orders, and then as a way to put off doing his apology essay after his defeat, but eventually, it became a challenge. He felt pride as he managed to lift bigger and bigger rocks, and became excited as he saw his already large muscles grow more and more. O’Chunks had been eyeing this particular rock ever since he started; he couldn’t estimate how much it weighed off the top of his head, but he did know it had to weigh at least twice as much as any dumbbell he had ever seen and nearly as big as a Muth. As he tried to catch his breath, O’Chunks pictured himself finally holding the behemoth boulder over his head, his muscles swelling with power as he lifted it higher and higher. O’Chunks felt as his arms twitched a bit, like they were anxious to get into it and prove their worth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Alrighty…”, O’Chunks stood up with a bit of a stagger, “I think it’s time teh get teh work then.” he grumbled to himself. O’Chunks stretched, knowing that flexing his arms and legs would help make lifting the rock even easier than he was certain it already would be. He took a deep breath and got into his lifting stance. With his legs firmly planted into the ground apart from each other, he reached out and grabbed the rock. He felt as his muscles tensed up. The rock was cold and rough, and when he began to pull, it dug into his skin and scratched up his hands, but O’Chunks just ignored the discomfort as best as he could. But the rock didn’t budge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Confused, O’Chunks stopped. He let out a huge huff of air much akin to a growl and began to pull again. O’Chunks just kept pulling and pulling, hoping that eventually he’d break the rock free from the ground, but no matter what he did, it just didn’t move. O’Chunks lost his grip, causing him to stumble back and nearly fall over. Surprised, he took a moment to look at his hands and discovered they were covered in blood. Unsure of what else to do, he wiped the blood off on his kilt and tried one last time, but the rock didn’t budge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  O’Chunks looked at the rock angrily. Who did this rock think it was? O’Chunks was the strongest man this side of Flip Side, so he should have been able to lift this rock easily! O’Chunks clenched his fist. “How dare yeh… yeh… yeh rock!” He shouted. O’Chunks punched the rock with all the might he had in his body. Then he punched it again, and again, and again. O’Chunks kept punching the rock until he couldn’t punch through the pain in his hand anymore, and then he collapsed on his back. Hot tears rolled down his face, but he didn't have the energy to wipe them. He felt so useless - he had spent months of training and working to lift this rock and it had been wasted. If he couldn’t defeat Mario, and he couldn’t defeat the rock, then what could he do? O’Chunks was the strong one - it was all he had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  O’Chunks had worked tirelessly his entire life for an opportunity like this. He always wanted a job where he could really use his strength for something. So, when Count Bleck asked for his assistance, O’Chunks was thrilled. Finally, years of training were about to pay off. He didn’t even ask what he was punching for at first, because the only thing that mattered to him was that he was finally getting his shot. Besides, as he had overheard the Count say himself, O’Chunks was too stupid to understand anyway. Count Bleck hadn’t hired him for impressive critical thinking skills, or for outstanding mathematical understanding - he was hired to punch stuff really hard, and that’s all he planned to do - all he even wanted to do. Before he got this job, he had felt unfulfilled, but he really began to live when he started working. But, if he lost this strength, and wasn’t even able to lift one measly rock, he was no use to Count Bleck, and then it would be back to the dull life O’Chunks had known before. O’Chunks shivered at the thought. No, he had to stay strong, so he had to lift this rock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  O’Chunks stood up again and rubbed the tears and sweat out of his eyes. He could feel as the rough fabric from his shirt scrapped the skin under his eyes. It left a burning sensation and red marks that were only worsened by the tears he missed. O’Chunks sniffed and let out one last tear. One last time, he thought as he looked at the rock again. He tightened his muscles and gripped the sides of the rock again and pulled. The rock was cutting into his hands again, this time deeper and heavier, but O’Chunks didn’t care. He was going to lift this rock if it killed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “O’Chunks, quit your idiotic pulling, you insufferable low life.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    O’Chunks jumped. He had been so focused on uprooting the rock that he hadn’t noticed that Dimentio had snuck up behind him. O’Chunks sighed in relief. “What do yeh want? Finally came out ‘o yer hidin’ teh say hello?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   Dimentio just looked at O’Chunks with a cold, dead expression, obviously not amused by O’Chunks’ remark. O’Chunks felt intimidated, but he tried not to show it. Something told him that Dimentio somehow knew though. Eventually, Dimentio broke his silence. “It’s buried in the ground you know.” He said in a blunt tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “H-huh?” O’Chunks stuttered, not following what Dimentio was talking about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “The rock, dimwit. It’s half buried in the ground and stuck by the mud.”, Dimentio shook his head. Then, he snapped his fingers and lifted the rock out of the ground for a moment before placing it back on the ground, “Try it again now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  O’Chunks looked at the rock again for a moment before pulling on it again. This time, he managed to finally lift it. Dimentio was right. It wasn’t as heavy as he thought it would be, though it was much actually bigger than predicted; a lot of it must have been buried underground, hidden from sight. But as O’Chunks pushed the rock up higher and higher above his head, he felt as his fingers slipped on the mud and pebbles that still caked the bottom of the rock. Disappointed, and now afraid of dropping it on his head, O’Chunks gave the rock a good heave and tossed the rock back down to the ground. It landed on its side with a thud, and O’Chunks watched as it slowly started to sink back into the soft ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Now, feel better now?” Dimentio asked callously. He crossed his arms and waited impatiently for O’Chunks’ reply as if O’Chunks was wasting his time, even though he was the one who was interrupting O’Chunks’ time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Er, yeah. I guess I do… thanks fer that.”, O’Chunks rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, embarrassed that he didn’t realize that the rock was buried before he made a fool of himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Don’t waste my time with your worthless thanks, O’Chunks. I don’t care about your workout one way or the other, I was simply sparing you from your own self destructive idiocracy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  O’Chunks didn’t know what half of those words meant, but he knew he was being offended and frowned. “Then bug off, yeh old bat. I don’ have time to be wastin’ when I could be workin’ out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “As you wish,” Dimentio chuckled, “I just thought you might like to know about the meeting.... But, if you insist on keeping your ignorance…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Wait? Meetin’?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Dimentio was just about to snap his fingers and disappear before O’Chunks had stopped him. “Oh, so you do want to know about it? After being so rude to me, eh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “I’m sorry, Dimentio, I promise I’ll never say a rude thing to yeh again. Please don’ leave me out ‘o the meetin’.” O’Chunks pleaded. Surly the Count wouldn’t have it if he was late to yet another meeting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Dimentio looked away and sighed dramatically. “Oh, I don’t know. I should probably punish you for talking to me like that. You seem to think you’re better than me, you pitiful plebeian.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “No, no!”, O’Chunks cried, “I promise I don’! I’m sorry fer what I said, I’ll never say anything like that ever again!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Well,” Dimentio sighed again, “If you promise… but next time you get mouthy with me, you’ll regret it. Got it?” he snarled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Yes! I promise!”, O’Chunks got down on his needs and begged, “Please, Dimentio, don’t make me miss this meetin’!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “All right then, I’ll tell you.” Dimentio shook his head as he gave in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Oh, thank yeh! Bless yer kind soul!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Can it.”, Dimentio snapped, “I don’t want to hear another word. Mario has been spotted in the Woah Zone, and the meeting discussing what we will do about it is starting now.” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>  “Now?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Yes, now! Can’t you listen to anything anyone says?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Yes, but I’m goin’ teh be late now!” O’Chunks complained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Maybe next time you’ll learn to control your mouth, and you’ll get to be on time.”, Dimentio was about to snap his fingers, but just before he did, he added, “Oh, and could you do a favor for me? Make sure Mr. L knows, too. I’d tell him myself, but.. Well, he’s being rather sour with me right now. I’ll see you at the meeting, then.” and with that, Dimentio flicked his fingers and was gone in a snap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  O’Chunks stood in disbelief for a moment trying to process what had just happened before he realized he had to run. He had a long way back to the meeting room if he wanted to have time to beg to be spared from the Count’s rage. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Miserable Mechanic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For 4 days straight now, Mr. L had been working without pause on his newest robot creation. He had poured blood, sweat, and even perhaps some tears into this new robot, and at last it was finally complete. Standing in at about 20 feet tall, the robot had only about a hundred different missiles nestled within its solid metal shell, and defense sturdier than any robot before it could ever dream of having. It was Mr. L's magnum opus. He figured that he’d call it “Brobot”, as it was like the extremely powerful and mechanical brother he never had. Mr. L was certain that Brobot would lead him, and in turn, Count Bleck, into victory over those helpless heroes. As long as Mr. L and his marvelous mechanical bro stood in his way, Mario didn’t have a prayer at getting a   single new pure heart. </p><p>    After making his last minor adjustments, Mr. L set his wrench aside and wiped the sweat and dirt out of his eyes. He took a step back to admire his handiwork, finding even himself impressed by his creation. He was a master of mechanics, always finding new ways to improve on his already perfect designs; setting the bar impossibly high for the measly mechanics below him. He was the greatest mechanic ever born - in fact, Mr. L couldn’t even remember a time when he was a bad mechanic.</p><p>    Mr. L froze in place. Now that he thought about it, Mr. L couldn't even remember a single thing about his life before now. Mr. L racked his brain for a memory - any memory at all - of his life before he came to work for Count Bleck, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't remember a single thing. He figured maybe he should start smaller; ask some questions to get his memory going. How was it that had he gotten so good at mechanics? That was a good question to start with. Well... he didn’t remember ever studying them. Maybe a different question would be better - what was his childhood like? Did he tinker with toys and robots in his youth? Not that he could remember. What was his mother like, or his father? Did he have siblings? Surely, he at least had to have a good memory from his childhood? Up until now, he thought he did, but actually thinking about it, he really couldn’t remember anything.</p><p>    Mr. L noticed a large dirt spot on Brobot’s nose, pulling him out of his anxiety. He sighed and shook his head, putting those awful thoughts behind him, and then went to shine off the grime. Just as he had climbed up the ladder, though, the door suddenly slammed open, causing Mr. L to jump out of his skin and nearly fall. Once he managed to regain stability - without falling, thank goodness - Mr. L looked over his shoulder to see who possibly dared to disturb his precious work time. He groaned once he saw who it was. It was the jester Dimentio, smiling deviously. as he always did. Dimentio gave a small wave, as if he was ever so innocent and not a bother at all. “Dios mio, How many times do I have to tell you not to just walk in like that?” Mr. L growled in annoyance.</p><p>    “Hey, it’s not my fault you’re a coward who can’t handle a little bit of noise.” Dimentio snickered. He clearly seemed to be taking enjoyment in startling, and then subsequently annoying Mr. L.</p><p>   “I’m not a coward! I just get easily startled!” Mr. L snapped, sick of Dimentio's attitude already.</p><p>   “Yeah, yeah, whatever…”,  Dimentio snickered to himself again, like he thought Mr. L couldn’t hear it. Then, he cleared his throat and asked, “I've noticed you’ve been pretty secretive these last few days. Have you even left this room since last Thursday? What are you trying to hide from me?”</p><p>    “I’m not hiding anything. I just didn’t care to tell you.”, Mr. L said coldly, “I’ve just been building Brobot. It’s a lot of work, but you wouldn’t know.”</p><p>    Dimentio yawned. Despite being the one who started the conversation in the first place, he was clearly disinterested. He began to look around the room with his eyes for something interesting that could actually hold his attention instead. While he did that, he said, “So, what is this “Brobot” of yours anyway?”</p><p>    “Only the most impressive piece of machinery known to man,” Mr. L boasted. He tried to keep his annoyed and collected tone, but he was just too excited to finally talk about his creation, so some excitement in his voice slipped through, “I’ve perfectly designed it to trounce any pitiful plumbers who get in our way. The Dark Prognosticus will be fulfilled in no time now that I've got Brobot.” </p><p>     Mr. L paused and began to think again. Plumber… he had spat that word out like it was filthy, and would taint his tongue. That’s how he heard the others speak it when referencing Mario, but something deep down in Mr. L wasn’t sure he felt the same way they did. Not just about the word plumber; although something about it also seemed to be different to him, it was just a word in the grand scheme of things. It was actually something about Mario that strangely called out to him. Although Mr. L was able to put on a show of total hate for the guy around the others, he couldn’t stop wondering if they were meant to be together somehow. Perhaps in some other timeline they were meant to be friends, or lovers, or something, but in this timeline, Mr. L knew they had to be enemies, and that’s just how it was. So, he just brushed off the thought and kept going.</p><p>    “Oh, good. I knew I could trust you to actually follow through with your promises to the count, unlike that dimwitted O’Chunks and incapable Mimi...”, Dimentio chuckled, “You’re so much more skilled than anyone else here, after all.”</p><p>    There was a pause. Since Mr. L wasn’t particularly interested in carrying out a conversation right now, he didn’t bother to reply. Instead, he simply continued to shine Brobot in silence, which gave him the chance to think some more.</p><p>    Mr. L felt empty, and had for as long as he could remember. He wasn’t sure why, though, just that he did. He wondered if it had anything to do with the way he secretly felt about Mario, but that seemed ridiculous. Last week, he had wondered if maybe what he needed was a friend; someone he could really count on, and confide in - like a brother. That had sounded right, but he knew didn’t have that reliance he craved in any of his cohorts. Count Bleck, for example, was always either too busy planning or sulking about something to himself like an angsty teen, and Natasia was always up the Count's ass trying to make him feel better. Mr. L was also sure O’Chunks couldn’t keep a secret even if he was smart enough to understand it. And Mr. L just didn’t like Mimi or Dimentio. Mimi was so wrapped up in herself and getting her way that she probably wouldn’t care anyway, and Dimetio was too closed off and mysterious, besides, no one ever knew where Dimentio actually was until he decided to show up on his own terms.</p><p>    So, he concluded that if he couldn’t find his perfect brother, then he would just have to build him instead. At first, it seemed like Brobot really was just what he needed, but as time went on, and Brobot became more and more of a reality, the void of loneliness only opened up more and more. Mr. L was confused by that. Brobot was designed to perfectly fulfill everything Mr. L was looking for: it looked like him, it was designed to compliment Mr. L’s strengths and many skills, and it would always listen but never tell. By all means, Brobot should have been the exact thing he needed to feel whole, but somehow, it didn't. Mr. L even sometimes felt like he was emptier now than when he had no one at all.</p><p>    Dimentio cleared his throat to break the silence. “You’re unnaturally focused on that. Is something wrong? What’s on that scrumptious mind of yours, Mr. L?”</p><p>    Mr. L cringed. Why did he insist on talking like either some sort of holier-than-thou fool, or a total pervert? “I’m fine.” Mr. L lied. He could feel Dimentio’s eyes fixed firmly on him, watching his every move. It made him uncomfortable.</p><p>    “No, don’t take me for an idiot. You know, I can tell when you’re hiding something.”, Dimentio snapped and the ladder disappeared. Mr. L fell onto the ground with a hard thud.</p><p>    “Hey! What the fuck, man??!” Mr. L shouted as he hit the ground with a thud. Now he was more pissed off than ever. Despite the pain, Mr. L managed to get back up on his feet with a groan and a very dirty glance at Dimentio.</p><p>     Dimentio just ignored him as though he hadn't done anything wrong. “Why don’t we sit down and talk about your troubles?”</p><p>   “No, there’s nothing to talk about.”, he insisted angrily, “There’s nothing wrong. Just a lot has been on my mind recently, but I already  told you that I don't want to talk about it.”</p><p>    “Oh? Stuff on your mind? Like what? Why don’t we sit down and talk this out?”,  Dimentio suggested as he grabbed Mr. L by the arm, ignoring as he tried to pull himself away. Mr. L continued to struggle for a moment, but gave up after Dimentio didn’t relinquish his grip, “You know, if you’re distracted with these thoughts, you won’t be at your best when you eventually face the heroes.”</p><p>    Mr. L looked back at Brobot and then back at Dimentio. He was persistent - annoyingly so. Mr. L sighed. He figured that if Dimentio wasn't going to give up, he would at least come up with some sort of lie based sob story to get Dimentio off his ass so he could get back to work. With a huff, he agreed. “Fine.”</p><p>    Dimentio smiled, seeming rather pleased. “You’ve made the right choice, dear.”   </p><p>    There was another awkward pause. Mr. L felt more uncomfortable than ever now. Despite not even saying a single word yet, Mr. L felt uncomfortably vulnerable already. He could feel Dimentio’s waiting eyes; they felt like they were searing into his soul, causing him to shutter. Mr. L still hadn’t thought of his cover up story when Dimentio finally spoke up. “So are you going to spill then, or not?”</p><p>    “Well, I -” </p><p>    Dimentio shook his head and tsked. “Oh, dear Mr. L, what do you think you have to hide from me? I promise I won’t tell anyone else. It’s not like the likes of the rest of Count Bleck’s crew could never understand your complex mind anyway…” Mr. L assumed Dimentio was trying to sound reassuring, but Mr. L didn’t think he sounded very sincere at all. </p><p>    Mr. L hesitated for another moment, but decided to just down his emotional shield, just this once. Perhaps he was being too unnecessarily closed off, he thought. Maybe Dimentio could help him think clearly and work through these thoughts if he gave him the chance. “Well,” he started, not really sure how to begin, “I’m actually not really sure what’s wrong. It’s just that - I feel wrong, and broken. I’m like a wolf without its pack, or a - Oh, I just don’t know!” </p><p>    Dimentio was quick to butt in. “Oh, that’s all? Here you had me so worried! You’re fine, just a little depressed. Everyone feels that way from time to time.” <br/> How could Dimentio say that? He didn’t even take the time to listen to Mr. L actually explain, and surely, if his “I’m perfect” attitude was anything to go by, he had never felt this way before. “No, no, you don’t understand. It’s not just feeling depressed. I can feel inside of me that something is missing. I built Brobot thinking he would fill that hole, but -”</p><p>    “I assure you, my dearest Mr. L. You are fine! Just think about how proud you’re going to make Count Bleck proud with this brother robot of yours!” </p><p>    Dimentio was cockily smiling like he had just solved all of Mr. L’s problems, but Mr. L didn’t feel like that pride was deserved at all. All Dimentio had done was ignore what he had said, and then tell him to just not feel bad - some advice that was. So for a while, the two just sat staring at each other; Dimentio still grinning smugly, and Mr. L frowning with a furrowed brow. Mr. L hoped Dimentio would realize what a dick he was being if he stared at him angrily hard enough, but he didn’t seem to get the message, or he was just ignoring it, per usual.</p><p>   “Dimentio, where I am from?” Mr. L eventually asked, seemingly out of the blue. </p><p>   Dimentio’s proud expression faded, leaving a puzzled look in its place. “Huh? What do you mean by that?”</p><p>    “Where am I from?”, Mr. L repeated, more sternly this time, “Where was I born? Where do I live?”</p><p>    “I - I still don’t understand.”</p><p>   Mr. L sighed and shook his head. “Of course you don’t get it.”</p><p>   “Then explain.” Dimentio said, in a somewhat agitated tone. Mr. L figured he didn’t like being confused for once. </p><p>   “Well, for starters, I’m clearly not from here. I don’t look like you, or like the residents <br/>of Flipside, or even like any of the monsters. I also don’t sound like anyone around here. And I’ve got this funny accent that no one else comes close to speaking with... no one else except that Mario.” </p><p>    For a brief moment, Dimentio strangely seemed panicked. He gulped, but then seemed to magically return to his usual unreadable disposition. “Well, no one else has an accent as awful as O’Chunks’ either, you know. You’re not special.” he pointed out. </p><p>    “I don’t remember anything about my childhood,” Mr. L continued sharply, “In fact, I can’t remember anything about my life before meeting you. Why?”</p><p>    Dimentio was visibly flustered now. He was desperately trying to keep himself collected, but he was clearly failing  “Now, Mr. L. You know I care very deeply about you-”</p><p>    “No, I don’t. I feel like I don’t really know anything about you, much less that you care. I don’t even think you know anything about me, and the only things I know about myself are the things you have told me! So, tell me, why don’t I know who I am!!?” Mr. L was shouting now. As he gripped his firsts tightly, he could feel as the oil on his gloves began to soak through to his hands. </p><p>    Dimentio seemed to stutter for a moment before finally snapping back with “Mr. L, you are acting irrationally. How dare you blame me for these things you think! Me, who found you and took care of you when you were at your weakest!”, Dimentio was very clearly over his flusteredness now. Although he matched Mr. L in tone, he was not shouting, and was showing much more restraint over his voice and words, “I gave you a place to stay, I gave you food, and work. So how dare you be so ungrateful? I’ve received many better thanks from the dirt and flowers I trample upon.” </p><p>    Mr. L growled under his breath. He had reached his breaking point with Dimentio. “Why did you ask if you weren’t going to listen? It’s like you think being a pretentious piece of shit is a sport.” Mr. L climbed into Brobot’s cockpit, not able to even stand the sight of Dimentio anymore. He left the door open, though, just so he could continue to listen to Dimentio’s bullshit, even if he didn't have any plans to respond to it. Other than that, though, he was done. He kicked his feet up on top of the control panel and crossed his arms and looked in the opposite direction as to not even give Dimentio the honor of his eye contact anymore.</p><p>    “I am listening to you; you’re just incredibly difficult when you don’t get your way, and are clearly not looking for my help. Try getting off your high horse and listening to me for once... So much time focusing on the past is bad for you, so focus on the present. The count is relying on you, so let’s not disappoint him.” Dimentio shouted, his voice full of fury. </p><p>    “Whatever. Thanks for your help, I guess.” Mr. L spat.</p><p>    “You’re welcome.” Dimentio said in a huff, ignoring the sarcasm. With that, though, Dimentio left, leaving Mr. L alone with only his thoughts once again, which was what Mr. L had wanted in the first place anyway.</p><p>    An hour or two passed, and Mr. L just sat alone and in silence. He was mulling over what just happened. Perhaps Dimentio was right, and he really was just overthinking everything. At the very least, he felt mostly fulfilled with his role in Count Bleck’s court, so maybe it really was irrational of him to get so angry at his lack of past memories. Once Count Bleck’s plans were finished and every universe was gone, he wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore, anyway, so maybe it was for the best he pushed away these irrational thoughts. They were all just unproductive anxieties anyway.</p><p>    Mr. L had just come to a somewhat peace when the door slammed open yet again. This time when Mr. L jumped, he ended up kicking Brobot into gear, causing a whirling and spinning of smoking machinery. When the smoke cleared and the noise quieted, everything pointed at a confused and frightened O’Chunks standing at the door.</p><p>   “Whut on Earth are yeh doing?!”</p><p>    “Accident.”, Mr. L explained coldly. I probably should have built in some sort of safety mode, he thought as he powered down the robot again, “What do you want? I’m busy.”</p><p>    O’Chunks huffed a bit as he whipped his forehead in relief, still obviously a bit shaken by the ordeal. Eventually, when he had calmed down enough to speak again, he answered. “That Maria bloke ‘as been spotted ‘eadin for teh Woah Zone. We're holdin' a meetin' about what to do about him now. I think' it's finally yer turn to do the chunkin'.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. In the Whoa Zone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>  A rushing sense of confusion fell upon Mario as he stood at the gates to a brand new beyond. The red clad had seen a lot of things in his 24 years of life - walking chestnuts, undead koopas… he had even experienced what it was like to be in a painting - but the landscape that laid in front of him right now was like nothing he had ever experienced before. This place was a great whiteness; there were occasional blue blocks scaled upon the walls that stood out so vividly from the rest of the landscape that Mario felt as though they were barely even real. When he looked into the distance, Mario could see that just like most places he visited, there were carefully placed platforms scattered throughout. Unlike the wooden, brick, and dirt platforms Mario was used to, though, these platforms appeared completely digital. They seemed to be unstable, too, telling by how they glitched ever so slightly in and out of their positions. As he gazed into the great unknown, frozen in place and unable to process where he was anymore, Mario suddenly found himself missing the terrors of open space he had been experiencing just moments before. He felt his heart start to race and his stomach churn... </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Suddenly, Mario felt as something grabbed his hand, causing him to jump. Much to his relief, when he looked back, he saw that it was just Princess Peach. She didn’t seem to be feeling well either. Mario could see past the faint smile on her face, and saw the fear in her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  For a while, the two just stood in silence. There was something therapeutic to Mario about just standing in the silence with familiar Peach in such an unfamiliar place, but before long, the two were interrupted by Tippi. “We need to get moving…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Ever since being kidnapped by Francis, Tippi had been different. She seemed less happy, and more anxious. Mario couldn’t put his finger on it exactly, though, but she was just more impatient, especially with Peach… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Hm?”, Mario said in a muffled tone as he pulled his hand away from Peach’s and looked back towards the horizon, “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s just get going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Peach nodded and looked towards the horizon as well as Mario adjusted his cap. His hair had been sneaking out from underneath it in an abnormally messy fashion. Everything had been so stressful lately, so Mario hadn’t exactly had time or energy to keep himself groomed. After also making a few quick adjustments to his overall straps, and taking a deep breath, Mario began to run, Tippi close in tow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Peach started to chase after him, but soon gave up and sighed. She knew she could never keep up with him in this dress... She would just have to hope to meet him at the chaos heart it seemed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “He’s not right.”, Peach heard Bowser’s voice grumble from behind her. The koopa walked up next to Peach and let out a gruff sigh of his own before continuing, “I don’t exactly like the guy, but seeing him like... that… is really getting to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “He’s just stressed…” Peach replied. She wasn’t convinced that that was all herself, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Bowser grumbled something again, this time inaudible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “I’m sure it’ll all be ok soon, I hope.” Peach added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Hrm.” Bowser huffed. And without another word, Bowser began to make his journey across the Whoa Zone. He was a part of this quest now after all, unfortunate as it was. Peach paused for a second before deciding it would be best to follow, and so, the two set off in pursuit of the hero plumber in muffled silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>  Mario didn’t have a clue where he was going. He had been running and running for what felt like hours now, but it was like he hadn’t gotten anywhere. As he continued to pass through more and more rooms, he seemed to recognize less and less. Every area either seemed the same, or somehow more strange and vague than the last. Mario had become very frustrated, but not just at the current scenario - at this whole storyline as a whole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He hated it, but Mario couldn’t help but wonder if all of this was his Luigi’s fault. As he recalled the last normal and happy memory he had before starting this journey, he recalled one last lunch at home with his favorite little bro where Luigi had said that the peacefulness of the last few months had been boring. With Bowser seemingly taking a vacation, the brothers two hadn’t been needed for anything more than fixing a clogged toilet for months. During that time, Mario noticed that he felt much less tense than normal, and even Luigi’s anxiety had mellowed out a bit compared to his regular usually-on-edge fear. The bros had spent so much of the last few years of their life chasing after Bowser and trying to save the princess, and going home for what felt like no relaxation time at all. Finally having a break felt nice, even if Mario had felt a little bit empty without his herowork.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mario shook his head. No, it would be so easy to scapegoat this, but Mario knew it wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Ever since the pair had moved to the Mushroom Kingdom, their whole world had been wacky hero work, so this wasn’t anything out of the blue for them, anyway. It gave Mario purpose. Besides, even if there was someone directly to blame other than Count Bleck himself, it wasn’t fair at all to pin it all on Luigi just for an offhand comment he had made. Luigi, of all people, would have never asked for stress like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Where was Luigi, anyway? Mario stopped in his tracks as the realization that he hadn’t heard from his little bro in forever washed over him in a cold rush of sweat. They had been on their separate adventures before, but they had always made sure to find some way to stay in touch on those occasions. Mario felt a sudden punch in his gut as more and more worry set in. Luigi was all alone, in a strange new world… he had panic attacks if he went alone to new grocery stores, so there was no way he’d be able to handle himself on his own in Flipside... if that’s even where he had ended up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Mario, snap out of it!”, Tippi cried, “We’ve got to keep moving!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mario shook his head to try and clear his thoughts. “I’m sorry. I just -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Tippi stopped him. “It’s ok. Please just keep going, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mario nodded and began to run again. Afraid of the reality he had just confronted, he tried his best to turn off his mind and just focus on moving forward. Besides, Luigi isn't the incapable kid anymore he used to be anymore, he thought, he’s 24 years old, so he can handle things himself, right? Luigi had been on a few adventures of his own against king boo, so he’d be fine… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mario could only hope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> After what felt like centuries, Mario finally came to a door. Faced with nowhere else to go, he took a deep breath and stepped inside. As soon as he stepped through the door, Mario felt as though his whole body had done a 180. The sickness wore off quickly, thank goodness, but it came back 10 times worse when he realized he was now completely upside down. Mario felt as vomit started to rise in his stomach, but he managed to hold it in and keep running. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  The Whoa Zone was as empty as it was strange, and it was this emptiness that made Mario start to think. He had spent years constantly surrounding himself with other people, but now he was alone.. well, there was Tippi, but couldn’t really talk to her, and she was also staying mostly silent anyway, so effectively. Mario was alone, leaving him alone with thoughts he had been ignoring for years now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Mario and hero were nearly synonymous terms. Even when he was little, Mario was always doing what was right; always “saving the day”, in one way or another. Mario reveled in the spotlight, thriving off of all the praise that came his way when he played hero. He’d tattle on his classmates for having toys at school, or on Luigi for forgetting to do his chores, or even sometimes on his mother for not starting dinner early enough for Papa Mario’s likings. He had very little friends as a child, as he often ruined his relationships with people just to hear those words he craved so much:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “We’re so proud of you, Mario.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You’re such a good boy, Mario.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>  “Great job, Mario. You’re making your papa proud.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>  That last one was always his favorite. There was something special about knowing he was making his father in particular proud. That was really all he wanted- to make his papa proud. When Mario felt like he wasn’t making his father proud enough, he’d often  purposefully cause problems to solve - like when he tied the family dog’s leash in knots around a tree so he could untangle it when his papa was watching, or when he hid Luigi’s shoes so he could step in with them in hand when papa and Luigi’s fight got its loudest. These plans didn’t always work out, though. When papa was too busy getting on Luigi to congratulate him, or when his papa was at work, Mario felt his most alone in the world. He felt like he had no sense of purpose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Maybe that was why the simple plumber from Italy was the one who became the hero of the Mushroom Kingdom. What other reason could there have been for an immigrant just trying to get by to take up that position? It wasn’t actually too long after he and Luigi had first moved to the Mushroom Kingdom that the princess was kidnaped by Bowser for the first time. Back then, they had no connection, or pride, for the Mushroom Kingdom, and the certainly didn’t feel like they owed it anything - only knowing their native Italian, the brothers couldn’t even speak the same language as their neighbors, so what was there that would have made Mario feel so loyal that he would go after a princess who hadn’t done anything for him? Even though Luigi had begged and pleaded that Mario stayed home and let someone else handle it, Mario had decided that it must be him who’d save the princess…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Suddenly, there was a light tapping on Mario’s shoulder. “Mario!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “WHAT!?”, Mario snapped. When he looked behind him and realized it was the princess and Bowser, his anger quickly became regret. Mario took a deep breath, “I’m sorry, I just -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “It-it’s ok Mario. It was my bad for coming up on you like that.” Peach apologized timidly, as she pulled her hand away from Mario.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “No, no… I shouldn’t have yelled. This adventure has just been getting to me...” Mario admitted guiltily. Not enjoying his hero work was something he wouldn’t have previously even admitted to a goomba, much less his frequent damsel in distress, in front of her usual kidnapper, but right now, he just needed it off his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Bowser snorted. “I know what you mean! I’ve only been a hero for a day, and I’m already done with it! You’ve got it pretty tough, bud.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Mario felt like Bowser was being sarcastic, so he just ignored him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “It’s ok,” Peach continued, “I can’t imagine being the hero has been easy for you. I know you didn’t ask for all of this and never wanted all of this attention, but do think you’ll be ok to keep going, just this one time?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mario gulped. Guilt began to rush over him, so he looked away from Peach. He decided not to correct her about that, at least for now. “Yeah.” he replied, taking a deep breath and putting on a brave face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mario was about to start running again when he was stopped.. Peach had grabbed his hand and pulled him back to her before he could get too far. “We’ll do it together.” she added sternly, not leaving any room for debate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mario looked back and was silent for a moment. He looked into Peach’s stern yet soft eyes and saw fear, and, more importantly, her determination. He had never seen the princess so empowered before. Where was this empowerment when she got kidnapped, he thought? Mario put that thought out of his mind. Now was no time for that. “Yeah. Together.” Mario said, and as he did, he unexpectedly felt as a weight lifted off his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Peach smiled, and then gave Mario a quick kiss on the nose. Mario tried to dodge it, not wanting to get sappy or lovey dovey in front of Bowser, but Peach just grabbed his hand tighter and made sure he didn’t get away. Mario pretended like he hadn’t liked it as he wiped the imaginary kiss off of his nose. With Bowser laughing at him now, Mario growled a bit under his breath and said  “Alright already, then. Let’s-a go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  It would be another two hours of aimless wandering  before Mario, Tippi, Peach, and Bowser finally found an end to their madness. They had all breathed a huge sigh of relief when they eventually managed to find a lock door that Bowser had already found the key too. Mario was angry at Bowser at first for not telling him he had found the key before, but that quickly wore off  when they were finally greeted by the end of the Whoa Zone and the sight of Squirps, who had run off without them at the beginning of the Whoa Zone, waiting impatiently for them on the other side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “SLOWPOKES! What took you so long!?” Squirps complained, loudly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mario so badly wanted to go off on him for abandoning them, but he let it go. They didn’t have time, and Mario was too tired to be angry anyway. “Don’t worry about it.” He muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Well, Squrips was tired of waiting! Squirps almost gave up!”, Squirps whined. But, before anyone else could get a word in, he had quickly moved on from his frustration, “The pure heart you’ve been wanting is just in front of you, space grunts!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Suddenly, there was a mysterious chuckle that filled the room, followed by a cool voice that said “Squirps, you’ve done well. You’re a smart kid.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mario froze. Why did the voice sound so familiar?! Whie Squirps unintentionally stalled for time by flattering himself to the voice, Mario just stood in panic.The familiarity of the voice mixed with its clearly malicious intent was enough to shake Mario up yet again. He was quickly forced out of it, though, when a green and black figure suddenly swooped down right in front of him. Mario stumbled backwards in surprise at the suddenness of the figure’s presence, and when Mario caught himself, he had to take a moment to collect himself and examine the figure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The figure was a man. He was not so tall, and had a mustache, much like Mario was himself. His face was hard to see, as it was obscured in shadow - or was that a black bandana? It didn’t matter. Mario found the man’s outfit to be most interesting, and almost familiar as well. He wore a jumpsuit with two bright gold buttons proudly in the front, and around his neck was a bold green bandana. What really stood out, though, was the hat on his head. It was green with a black emblem with a green L embroidered into it, just like...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  The L, Mario thought, a green L on his hat, just like Luigi’s. Mario looked back at his face again, and studied it. What details Mario could make out sure looked like Luigi, but there was no way it could be him. For one, the man in front of Mario stood with confidence, and wore a very cocky, prideful expression on his face. Both of those things were to Luigi as a koopa was to honey - not related at all. Luig was timid, and anxious. He was very doubtful of his own abilities, and he wore these traits on his sleeve. In all of his lifetime, Mario had never seen his little bro be bold like this, so it couldn’t be him. It would just be too big of a change of character - it wouldn’t make sense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Who are you?!” Tippi asked sternly. She fluttered forward in between the man and Mario with an angry thrust, ready to stand her ground if it came to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  The man pulled the brim of his hat down with a chuckle. “Oh, me? Just Count Bleck’s most promising minion. The green thunder…”, the man suddenly spun around and pulled a pose in a fantastical fashion. With one hand in the air, and the other out to his side, he held his head high and proud as he shouted “Mr. L!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Mr… L?” Peach repeated, unsure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “What kind of -” Tippi started, before swiftly getting cut off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “I don’t need you to tell me it’s a cool name,” Mr. L gloated, “but don’t bother memorizing it.” He smirked as he looked at his nails in boredom, but he was wearing gloves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “What are you trying to say?!” Bowser roared. He began to step forward, but was blocked when Mario put his arm out in front of him and shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Not yet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Is no one going to pay attention to Squirps?!” Squirps shouted angrily, yet was still ignored.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you going to do then?” Tippi asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mr. L looked up and smirked. “Fight you, and win.” He spat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mr. L began to charge at Mario. Caught in shock, Mario barely managed to dodge out of his way in time. Mario then watched as Mr. L crashed straight into Bowser, who managed to think fast enough to burn Mr. L. Mr. L then stumbled back and fell down onto his back. He quickly got back onto his feet, though, and quickly started charging at  Peach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   Peach screamed as ducked down and shielded with her parasol in fearful anticipation  of Mr. L’s attack, but luckily for her, it never came. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  With a running start, Mario had jumped right onto Mr. L’s head as if he were merely a goomba.. Mr. L let out a yelp as he fell back onto the ground, this time, seemingly for good. Mario stood over him to the side and glared down at the man who had threatened to hurt his Peach with fiery anger. If expressions could kill, Mr. L would be a dead man at least 3 times over. When he finally opened his eyes, Mr. L was forced to look straight into the eyes of Mario. For a brief moment, the defeated villain even showed his fear,  but he allowed that for long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mr. L pushed himself up into a sitting position with a stagger and a groan. When he regained his balance, he looked away, yet still sideyed Mario with hot, seething mal contempt. He let the dramatic atmosphere linger in the air for just a moment more as he wiped the blood off of his lips before saying “Just because you wear red, does not mean you are strong.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mario paused, unsure of what that meant. This confusion is what gave Mr. L the time to get up completely. “That was rather impressive. Guess there’s but one thing to do now....”, Mr. L struck another pose, throwing his hands to the air, and yelled, “Come to me, metal bro!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  As soon as he said the words, the room filled with the roaring of an engine. Mario grabbed Peach’s hand, ready to defend her to his death against whatever sort of defense Mr. L had just summoned. Mario surveyed the room, looking for the source of the deafening sound. In the distance, he could see the outline of a mech. As it drew near, Mario began to make out its details - it was large with two giant antennas poking out from either side of its frame, and appeared to be in the shape of a face. Mario made out a large nose, and a mustache, and finally a hat before realizing it was the face of Mr. L. Mario growled and  dug his heels into the ground in anticipation as it soared down with a burst of flame, landing right beside Mr. L.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mr. L quickly climbed into the cockpit of the monstrous machine. “Do you like him?!” , Mr. L asked cockily, “His name is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Brobot</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He is my dear metal brother. We share a very </span>
  <em>
    <span>special bond</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you know!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  There was another roaring of machinery, this time as the spinning gears whirred into position as Mr. L lifted off, pulling out all sorts of missiles and trackers and scary warheads as well. He laughed almost manichally as he pointed them down towards the pitiful plumber and his pathetic posse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “That’s enough playing, already! Say your final prayers, M -”, Mr. L choked up. It was like he was unable to say what he was intending to. Mr. L sweated nervously as he stumbled on the word before he eventually managed to choke it out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Say your final prayer, Ma - Mario!’</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Jester's Court</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dimentio alone sat in the ethereal void between worlds. Here, there was nothing, and yet at the same time, there was everything. As he floated through the nothingness, Dimentio could feel as the worlds on all sides of him continued on, living as though their citizens had not a care in the world, and as though their lives had meaning at all. Dimentio perceived all of their pains, hardships, and joys all the same.On his left, Dimentio knew that a child was having her seventh birthday, and on his right, he sensed the crying of a newly widowed woman as she’s told the news that her husband is never coming home. He could feel all of Castle Bleck, and how the people inside roamed its lonely halls, and he could tell that they were full of dread and despair. And Dimentio could also feel Flipside, full of life and ignorant hope, as Count Bleck’s void looming above was brushed aside in the minds of its citizens.</p><p> It was only in this strange place that Dimentio ever found peace. The real world was messy, and emotional. Here, Dimentio could experience all of these things without any other people to muddy his enjoyment of their pain with their frivolous emotions and morals. Sensory input was also nulled here, blessing Dimentio with the ability to detach himself even further from the emotions of others. The only senses that seemed to have kept their function were sight and taste, but those two senses didn’t affect Dimentio much anyway. As long as they didn’t interfere with Dimentio’s ability to perceive what he called “signatures” like the others did.</p><p>  Dimentio had spent years here, now, and one of the most important things this place had taught him was about signatures. Everything living has a signature, he learned. From the smallest goomba, to the largest Muth, everything could be sensed and understood if you can learn to pick up on their unique patterns in the In Between. More importantly, though, they could tell Dimentio what was going on in the real world while he remained hidden in this quiet place. By reading the signatures around him, he was able to wait patiently for the right moment to strike the right place. He could be where he was needed in an instant, all without being called. Dimentio knew and felt everything, and here, he controlled everything. It was brilliant, and it was all his. This place made him feel almost like an almighty god, watching in the shadows and waiting to strike at those who had wronged him..</p><p> </p><p>   He called this wonderful place “the In Between”.</p><p> </p><p>   Dimentio sighed, and recalled the first time he managed to stubble into the In Between. He couldn’t remember what he was doing to get here - all of his memories before this place were an old haze - but he did remember that he was young, and how his discovery was an accident. He remembered how, at first, the In Between was terrifying. Back then, everything seemed so dark, and the signatures of the universes around him seemed so deafening, like a thousand radios playing at once at a heavy metal concert. It was total hell, and yet, even that very first, confusing visit was… well, magical, for lack of a better word. The aloneness here was so much different than the aloneness he faced in Flipside, and it was wonderful. Here, he was totally alone, and in control of that aloneness. In Flipside, he was surrounded by people. People who went on with their lives - making friends, loving and caring - all the better without him.</p><p>  Perhaps that was why the In Between had chosen him - or, at least that Dimentio thought that’s what had happened. Surely, he was a special chosen ruler considering that he had never seen anyone else here. He and the In Between just had so much in common. The In Between was depressingly lonely, just like Dimentio’s life outside of this place. There was no one to talk to, or to joke with, or to love or to miss in the In Between. It was no different than the world he was born into. Dimentio and the In Between had a connection. It had to have chosen him because of it.</p><p> </p><p>  Dimentio snapped his fingers, and before him appeared a drink. Drink in hand, Dimentio kicked back as he floated through the darkness, letting the weightlessness of the In Between wash him through the void. As he floated, Dimentio began to ponder his plans. Things were going well right now, and he deserved this. He mindlessly swished the drink around for a moment, watching as the ice sloshed up against the side of the thin glass. What was this? He wondered, peering into the glass. Seemed alcoholic. Dimentio shrugged and took a swig. The drink had an incredibly off putting flavor, and it burned as it forced its way down Dimentio’s throat, but he ignored it. He wasn’t going to get much better to drink anyway.</p><p>  Dimentio started swirling his drink again lackadaisically. “Yes,” he said, thinking out loud, “Everything is going well… well, how boring.” The fact that everything was boring would normally be a good sign, and while Dimentio was happy to see his plan was working just right, he wished something exciting would happen. He had spent so many hours plotting and playing this 4d chess, trying to get everything to align, and it had all just fallen into his lap. Where was the fun in that? Where was the challenge? He had planned out so many scenarios and how to triumph over them, all for nought. Dimentio wished he’d at least get a little pushback, just for the drama.</p><p>  Dimentio froze as he suddenly realized something. The usual silence filled the air as the ice in his drink settled, but right now, that silence was still painfully loud. Now that he thought about it, there had been some pushback, but not in one of the places he had planned for.</p><p>  Mr L’s outburst the other night was actually very concerning. Dimentio had been certain that his mind control, already stacked on top of Nastasia’s brainwashing, was unbreakable, but the plumber boy’s consciousness seemed to be slipping through. Though, he wasn’t completely free of Dimentio’s control, as of right now. Even if he was aware of the gaps in his life’s story, he seemingly wasn’t to the point that he recognized that he wasn’t who he thought he was. He was asking questions, so he obviously didn’t have the answers he needed to break free… Perhaps Dimentio still had time. If he could come up with sweet lies to appease Mr. L’s curiosity, he could keep the facade going long enough to continue on as planned.</p><p> </p><p>  Or, Dimentio could just destroy Mr. L, before it was all too late...</p><p> </p><p>  Dimentio shook his head with a tisk. He’d just hold onto that thought for now. Right now everything was going too smoothly for such drastic measures. It was probably best just to give Mr. L some more time to prove himself. As long as he was still just asking questions, he wasn’t lost yet, and he was still of use. Dimentio would just have to see how his next battle with the heroes would go before making his decision. </p><p>  “Oh, Luigi. You poor sweet child, lost in a field of your own thoughts. You live in a world that rejects you. Your own brother spits on your name when you have your back turned.. Will you ever learn? When will you realize that you’re just like me? You will never be happy, either, you fool.”</p><p>  Suddenly, something caught Dimentio’s eye. To his left, a familiar ladder drifted by. Ah, he thought, perhaps I should put that back. Dimentio snapped, and the ladder seemingly popped out of existence. Dimentio figured it would end up back in the right place, but in all fairness, Dimentio did not particularly care if it did or did not. It didn’t affect him.</p><p>  Dimentio finished his drink, disappointed. He had really hoped it had been alcoholic, but he didn’t feel any different after drinking it. Sad, he thought. He liked the way he actually seemed to feel something when he got a bit drunk. Maybe the effect had just reached its limit. Perhaps he had felt too much, and now it was time for him to pay the price. </p><p>  A new sound broke through the Between. Well, perhaps “sound” was the wrong way to put it, but nonetheless, Dimentio sensed a fight. The clanging of metal filled Dimentio’s mind, and he felt as bodies fell to the floor only to get back up again. He could tell as people took breaths they worried would be their last, and as someone laughed, hoping it would be. Dimentio felt it all.</p><p>  Dimentio could tell that the fight was between Mr. L and Mario and his gang of heroes. The Mario brothers had such a unique signature… Although most people’s signatures came off as mostly vague, yet distinguishable with time to Dimentio, the Mario brothers were something special. Something about their signatures stood out like a sore thumb in a closed fist, cutting through the darkness of the In Between like a knife through butter. And their signatures were so unusually similar to each other’s. Dimentio figured that it could be because some sort of “destiny” they shared, or a spiritual link thing or something, but Dimentio also thought that was incredibly stupid. It was probably a lot less complex and stupid than that. They were twins, if he was correct. Dimentio had encountered plenty of twins before, and their signatures were somewhat similar, even if not anywhere near as much as the Mario brothers’. Perhaps it had to do with how the Marios were much closer than most other siblings. The two were disgustingly close to each other, and Dimentio actually gagged a little every time he remembered that the two, despite both being grown men, still live together, and sleep in the same room. At that point, Dimentio figured the two might as well share the same bed. Their close knit bond and emotional reliance on each other was already deplorable enough for that not to phase anyone. Their relationship made them so weak.</p><p>  Dimentio paused. Did it make them weak? To Dimentio, such reliance on others had always been a sign of individual inadequacy. What you couldn’t do yourself, you had to have others do for you, and dividing people from the people they got to fill those roles they couldn’t themselves made it ever so easy to conquer them. For the brothers, Luigi’s emotional reliance on Mario had made it easy to take over his mind when the two were separated. Despite Mario's absence making Luigi weak, though, Dimentio couldn’t help but think about how quickly Mr. L seemed to wisen up to the fact that something was awry. Their bond must have been more important that Dimentio had originally anticipated. Their identities seemed to hinge on the other… Disgusting, Dimentio thought.</p><p> </p><p>  The fight continued, more intense than ever now. Mario was winning. Tragic.</p><p> </p><p>  The other night, as Dimentio watched Mr. L question himself, he started to wonder if maybe Mr. L wasn’t as separate an identity from Luigi Mario as he had hoped it was. When he had brought forth Mr. L’s existence, he had assumed it was an identity he himself had created from the ashes of a broken man, but the self awareness he exhibited almost suggested that Mr. L had been within Luigi all along, and that Dimentio had just brought the pieces together to make Mr. L whole. If Mr. L was the sole creation of Dimentio, Dimentio would have had complete control over him, and would have never put it in his head to question anything. And, if the hypothesis was true, it would mean that Mario was as integral as a part of Mr. L as he was to Luigi. Mr. L’s awareness was starting to make a lot more sense now… Mr. L was not just randomly catching on. He obviously felt that something was missing, and those questions he had asked were his first attempts at piecing together what exactly that missing thing was. Mario's absence from Mr. L’s life made him vulnerable to reverting back to Luigi… and the lack of strength from his brother made him vulnerable to losing.</p><p> </p><p>  And at that moment, the final blow was struck, and Mr. L finally defeated.</p><p> </p><p>  Dimentio had still been holding his empty glass up until the moment Mr. L’s defeat had been solidified. In that moment, anger took over his body, and he crushed the glass with his bare hand. Blood trickled down his wrist as it soaked through his gloves. He couldn’t feel it in the In Between, but the pain from the injury flared up in his palm immediately as he snapped and brought himself back into reality, right to the sight of Mr. L’s defeat. He ignored the pain, though. It was nothing compared to the work to be done.</p><p>  As Dimentio entered the scene of the defeat, he found Mr. L in a pathetic mess laying face first on the ground. His hat had been knocked off of his head, and it rested just out of Mr. L’s weak reach. As he stretched for it, Mr. L mumbled something, but Dimentio didn’t care to hear it. When Mr. L eventually managed to grab his hat, he shoved it on his head, causing his hair to become a disheveled mess, before managing to gather enough strength to push himself up off of the ground and brush the dust off of his jumpsuit. Dimentio thought he looked utterly worthless right now. It was tragic. Just a few days ago he had been such a beacon of hope. He was so certain his “brobot” would bring glory to Bleck, but he couldn’t even win a simple fight. It seemed Mr. L was all talk.</p><p>  Well, that wouldn’t do. Dimentio’s hand was forced.</p><p> </p><p>   Dimentio decided to make his presence known with a chuckle. “Did they wound your fragile pride, Mr. L?”, he spat, letting his anger be known outright, “Demolish your robot again?” </p><p>  Mr. L jumped out of his skin, once again, startled. He shook nervously for a moment before collecting himself enough to turn around and confront the source of the scare. His expression quickly changed though when he saw who it was speaking to him. He went from appearing anxious out of his mind to suddenly trying to seem unbothered. “Oh, it's you again, Dimentio. I'm stumped. You'd think a giant robot would be enough to crush these heroes…”, There was a pause between the two. Mr. L continued, awkwardly, “I'm a disgrace... There's no way I can show my face to Count Bleck after THIS.”</p><p>“You’re right, Mr. L, and perhaps that is for the best.” </p><p>  Mr. L looked surprised. “Hey, you weren’t supposed to agree with me!”, he snapped, “And what do you mean, “for the best”?” </p><p>  “Even in your final hours, you remain as blissful as the child you truly are. Do you chose the ignorance you exhibit, or are you really just as stupid as you appear?.” </p><p>  Mr. L was confused, yet still hurt by the strange words Dimentio spoke. Something was off, and for the first time as far back as he could actually remember, Mr. L felt afraid.</p><p>  Dimentio continued, tired of waiting for a response. “I have already tired of this conversation…” he sighed. There wasn’t any more fun or use to be had from Mr. L, so he didn’t feel the need to waste any more of either of their time. He looked away and snapped his fingers, summoning four invisible walls, encapsulating Mr, L where he stood.</p><p> “Whoa, now! Hey! What are you doing?!” Mr. L shouted. Dimentio thought it was funny how he was demanding an answer like he was in any position to negotiate its answer.</p><p> “You said it yourself, my dear Mr. L. You can't go back to the count now. So... get lost.” Dimentio smiled. He had originally felt a little disappointed he had to let go of his prize weapon, but now, he was almost taking enjoyment in killing him.</p><p>  “Not a funny joke, Dimentio... If I wanted to laugh, your face is inspiration enough!”</p><p>   The desperation in Mr. L’s voice made Dimentio smile more. Hearing Mr. L try to cling to his nonchalant bully demeanor in such a dire state was just too amusing. And his sad sounds; oh, they were so sweet to Dimentio’s ears. He couldn’t wait to hear the cries of mercy the others would give when he finally became the king of all worlds.</p><p> “Such temper!”, Dimentio eventually replied, “Your nostrils, they flare out like the hood of a hissing cobra! Surely with an attitude like that, I can't have you around the count.” </p><p>  “Who cares about what YOU can and can’t have!” Mr. L was screaming now, and pounding against the wall, refusing to resign to whatever fate Dimentio was trying to push upon him. There was fear Dimentio had never seen before in his delicate blue eyes. It was delicious to see, “Let me go, you pathetic excuse for a clown!”</p><p> Ignoring the ruckus, Dimentio continued to himself, “If I am rid of him here, I won't be found out.... Yes, this is my moment to grasp.”, Dimentio turned back to Mr. L, and gave him a devious grin, “It's time for you to take your final bow, Mr. L.”</p><p>  “You've lost your mind, Dimentio!”</p><p>  Dimentio laughed heartily. “Shhhhh. Don't worry. It won't be so bad, I promise. You know what? I'll send those pesky heroes your way soon, just so you'll at least have someone to play with.” </p><p>  And with that, Dimentio waved one last goodbye to his faultfully faithful puppet and snapped. “Ciao, Mr. L!”</p><p>  Mr. L’s face dropped and he finally stopped his fighting. Dimentio had betrayed him, and that realization stung more than any words Dimentio could have spit at him. Now, all that was left to do was accept his fate, and cry.</p><p>  A cacophony of explosions suddenly filled Mr. L’s invisible prison, and he was knocked back onto his back. He screamed, but could not be heard. Mr. L tried to stay conscious, but every new explosion caused another blow to him that made that task more and more impossible. He looked around for Dimentio, or anyone, who might be with him in his final moments, just so he didn’t have to be alone, but there was no one. Only the vast expanse of whiteness of a destroyed kingdom was with him now. With all hope lost, there was nothing left for Mr. L to do now but lay down and accept the horror before him. Mr. L stopped fighting. It was the end for Mr. L. He had lost once and for all. Without anyone to save him, or anyway to save himself the pain Mr. L felt and whiteness that blinded him finally faded away as the world finally turned black.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Under Where?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content Warning: Drowning, s///cide attempt. This chapter may be triggering to those who struggle with mental health issues as attempted s///cide is a major plot point. I highly advice skipping this chapter if you are prone to s///cidal thoughts. If you need to skip this chapter, I am providing a chapter summary at the end of this chapter that does not mention that plot point.<br/>You matter, and there are people who care about you. If you are experiencing s///cidal thoughts, there is hope. Please, contact someone you love, or the Suicide Prevention Hotline at 800-273-8255.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>  </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Cold… everything is cold.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>      Wait, no…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>    Hot… everything is hot. And something is poking me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>  Mr. L rolled over onto his side with a groan. Just five more minutes, he thought, as he reached to pull his hat down over his eyes. Much to his surprise, though, he was only greeted by fistfulls of his own bristly hair. Confused, Mr. L began to slowly open his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  The poking persisted. Mr. L grumbled something inaudible, and then shoved away whatever was poking him away with as much force as he could muster being so sleepy. Then he pulled his arms back under himself and curled into a ball. He had gotten cold again. It was only a few seconds later, though, that the poking would come back and he had to unstretch and swat at the poker again. This time, he had even less time to try and get back to sleep before he was assaulted yet again. Now beyond infuriated, Mr. L suddenly shot up into a sitting position and shouted “Would you fucking quit it already, you asshole?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mr. L felt better after yelling. Now calmer, he looked around, his eyes still full of sleep, to see what the commotion even was. The haze in his vision made it so he wasn’t able to see out very far, but Mr. L still managed to make out the shape of someone sitting next to him. Mr. L rubbed his eyes and blinked, and slowly, that person came into focus. He looked.. Strange. Demonic, almost. His frightful appearance sent a shiver down Mr. L’s spine, but he shook the fear off quickly. What wasn’t so scary about this guy, though, was the blank look in his eyes. They stared at Mr. L, stupidly, mouth agape, as though they were a wiggler caught in headlights. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Who do you think you’re looking at?!”, Mr. L suddenly snapped. The guy jumped and some life was brought back into his expression, but he didn’t actually respond. So, Mr. L raised his voice again, “Hey! Answer me, dumbass!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  The person finally completely jolted back to reality. “Hey! No need to raise your voice, paisano!”, he snapped back, “Speak English!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mr. L began to spit back, but then stopped. “Paisano?” “Speak English?” What was this guy on about? Mr. L shook his head, and stopped to process what he needed to say. For some reason, although words had come to him so naturally before when he had yelled, he was having a lot of trouble knowing what words he needed to say. Eventually, he managed to get something out. “What… what are you saying?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “What I’m sayin’ is”, the person replied, sounding very huffy, “that there’s no need to shout if you ain’t even gonna do it in a language I understand, nitwit!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “What... what are you talking about?”, Mr. L rephrased, “I don’t understand you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  The person rolled his eyes. “Of course you don’t, filthy mortal… It’s always those damn Italians, too...”, he grumbled quietly to himself. Mr. L still heard him, though. Instead of getting offended by the insults, though, it just confused him even more, “Listen. I tried to be nice and wake you up, but you’re really driving me off the fuckin’ wall, so I ain’t gonna be so nice anymore. You're gonna need to get your ass off of the plaza and go get dressed. This is Hel - er, the Underwhere, not a nudist colony.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mr. L squinted for a moment before looking down at himself. Sure as day, he was totally naked. How had he not noticed before now? Embarrassed, he blushed bright red, and quickly covered himself up and then turned his body away from the guy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Oh, don’t bother. I’ve seen it all at this point, and it’s really nothin’ to write home about.” The guy grumbled, giving a muffled chuckle to himself after words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mr. L blushed harder now, partially with anger, but bit his tongue. He had many profanities he could yell in response to defend his dignity, but, he unfortunately was so much more full of questions than he was of answers, so now was not a wise time to be making an enemy out of the only person around. “Why couldn’t you… get - er, understand me before?” he said slowly. He was thinking very hard about what words he needed to say, but they still just wouldn’t come out right when he spoke. He had never had trouble speaking English before! Why then would he suddenly be unable to speak at the most basic level when he needed to be able to communicate the most!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Jeez, you’re so slow! You were speakin’ Italian, bub! I don’t speak Italian! What are you not gettin’ here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Italian? Mr. L pondered. Why? He couldn’t speak Italian before he came here (he didn’t think)… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Hey, where was here, anyway? Now that he was a little more awake, Mr. L was able to process the world around him a little better. It was dim, but not enough to completely obscure the scenery. On his left, there was a fountain, and to his right, a dense growth of what he assumed were trees; despite how eerily red they were, they were clearly some sort of plant. “Where is this… um, here?” Mr. L asked. The more he spoke, the more he realized he struggled to remember basic English. It was embarrassing, but there was nothing he could do about it right now but cry, so he tried to put it out of his mind and do his best to communicate anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  The guy let out a quick hearty laugh. “Oh, you’re new then, aren’t you? And here I just thought you were another drunkard who somehow got his hands on alcohol.”, he shook his head and chuckled to himself unkindly,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “So, you really want to know what this place is? You want to know about this place where the red flower withers? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “You’ve made it to the afterlife, paisano.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Stop calling me that!”, Mr. L spat. Despite never hearing the word “paisano” before in his life, Mr. L somehow instinctively knew what it meant” However, something told him this asshole next to him wasn’t using it in the friendly terms it was intended to be used in, “How did I - g… Afterlife? But I’m not...” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mr. L gulped. The memories were flooding back to him now. He had been in a fight, with Mario, and Peach and Bowser. And when he  had lost, in his most broken state... Dimentio had betrayed him. Dimentio must have…. Killed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Mr. L’s head started spinning. So many old questions started to come back to him. . It all felt like a huge punch to the gut, and Mr. L wasn’t even sure where he could start answering most of them. Mr. L collected his thoughts as best he could and decided to focus on the issues he could right now, starting with one simple question:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “You. You tell me how to get back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  The guy snorted, and then burst out in full on laughter. After taking a few very-annoying-to-Mr.-L minutes to get it all out, the guy wiped a few tears from his eyes and answered the ludacris demand. “Listen, dude. I doubt you’ll ever get out of this place. What makes you special that didn’t apply to the millions of others who yearned for freedom again before you?! Hm, but you know what? I’m sure Jaydes would absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>to humor the bullshit of a naked mortal Italian freak who can’t even speak English correctly. I don’t think she has had a good laugh as good as you in a few centuries, after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mr. growled. “Just point me, er… to her. You are taking all of my time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  The guy laughed again. “God, your English is so shit…”, he cleared his throat and then responded, “Anyway, you’ll find Queen Jaydes if you just head straight, but beware of the river Twgyz. I don’t want to have to report a missing soul if your dumbass falls in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mr. L stood up with another growl. After wiping the dirt off of his back and trying to fix his hair, Mr. L said “Thanks, you ass.”  before he began to walk in the direction he was pointed in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mr. L heard as the person let out one last snorting laugh. “Hey, no problem, you piece of shit! Good luck…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Well! Not really!”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>  Mr. L had been walking for what he felt like miles before he finally stumbled across a large castle. He was hesitant at first, but eventually, he shook it off and forced himself to go up to the door and walk in like he belonged there. He puffed out his chest and took a deep breath and swung the door open with all of his might. To Mr. L’s surprise, though, the castle was very busy, so his display of confidence went unnoticed. For a moment, he stood in the doorframe and watched as the castle staff bustled by. There were all sorts of demonic looking people here, all scurrying around doing all sorts of different things; carrying trays, mopping the floor, yelling at other, smaller, demonic looking people. Mr. L realized that this commotion actually worked in his favor. Because no one took notice of him, he was able to sneak through the crowd, obscuring his nakedness in plain sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mr. L spent a few minutes wandering around, confused, before he finally stumbled upon the throne room. It was larger than any room Mr. L had seen before, but it was also incredibly empty. Against the walls stood dark stoney pillars that looked as though they were meant to be more ornate, and the floors were a boring charcoal grey title. If it wasn’t for what stood at its end, a grand throne in which a very tall, bored looking woman sat, Mr. L wouldn’t have known that this was the throne room at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mr. L approached Jaydes timidly, still unnoticed by her hyper focused staff. When he was nearly within where Jaydes would likely notice him, a wave of anxiety flooded over him. He was paralyzed, and he didn’t know why. Sure, he had had moments of fear before - everyone has - but he had never been this overcome by it that he couldn’t move before. Since he couldn’t make himself move anymore, Mr. L tried to say something, but he couldn’t quite manage to force any sounds out. After another moment of panic, Mr. L gulped, took a moment to breathe, and then finally managed to get out a quiet “Erm… scusi..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  At first, it seemed as though Queen Jaydes hadn’t heard Mr. L. He was worried that he was going to have to repeat himself, but just when he cleared his throat to try and speak again, Jaydes looked down and noticed him on her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  In an instant, her facial expression changed from nonchalant and clearly unenthused, to full of shock and disgust. “Good heavens!”, she shouted, recoiling and looking away from the horror before her, “Please, put your clothes on!” Jaydes waved her hand, and before her she summoned a neatly folded set of clothes. She was quick to thrust them into Mr. L’s arms and wave him on to get changed quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mr. L looked down at what he had just been provided to wear: a green shirt, gloves, overalls, a pair of underwear, red striped socks, and a pair of basic work boots, all of which had obviously seen better days. Mr. L cringed, surprising himself a little that he didn’t gag immediately on contact. These weren’t his style at all. Normally, he would have much higher standards for what he was willing to be seen in, but, he wasn’t really in the position to be picky right now, so he quickly put the outfit on and let out a resigned sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  When Mr. L was finished, Queen Jaydes let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. That’s much better…. Although,”, she paused and examined Mr. L for a moment before continuing, “you seem to be missing something...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Style?” Mr. L mumbled to himself with a snort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Oh, you’ll have to know I don’t speak Italian….”, Jaydes mumbled as she continued to examine Mr. L. Eventually, her face lit up as she came to a realization, “Ah, of course. Your hat. How could I have forgotten.” Jaydes flicked her wrist again, and summoned a familiar looking hat. She handed Mr. L, and he looked at it for a minute with curiosity, He noticed that it was like the one he had before, except with a white emblem instead of a black one. Interesting, he thought, before brushing out his hair with his fingers and putting it snuggly on his head. Still, even with the hat, he felt immense disappointment. He felt incredibly silly, and very much unlike himself in these clothes. “Why this?” he asked as he tugged at the uncomfortable cuff of his gloves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “What do you mean?” Jaydes asked, raising her head from the hand she supported it lazily on before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Why make me wear ugly clothes?” Mr. L rephrased, upset Jaydes didn’t understand him the first time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “I’m still not sure what you mean. Those are the clothes you always wear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “No, that’s rude.”, Mr. L huffed, “I always dress good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “You know, you’re speaking strangely. How did you end up here?” Queen Jaydes asked, changing the subject.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mr. L growled. Having his linguistic inadequacy pointed out to him yet again was getting less embarrassing, and more irritating. “I don’t know!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Jaydes thought for a moment. “Well, perhaps it has to do with how you came here. Total or partial loss of second languages is pretty common in those who have come here under traumatic circumstances, after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “But, English is my only language…?” Mr. L asserted, extremely unconfidently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Queen Jaydes raised an eyebrow at Mr. L. “Are you not Italian?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mr. L was about to say no, but then he stopped himself. When he had been woken up earlier, he had unintentionally yelled in Italian. When he was still - er, alive it seemed - did have an accent that was clearly not from around Flipside. In fact, now that he took the time to think about it, he was still speaking with this accent, right now. Was it an Italian accent then? WAS he Italian?“I - I didn’t think so.” he replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Queen Jaydes’ eyebrow somehow managed to raise even higher. “Certainly, I am not wrong.I know everyone who’s ever lived, and will ever die. You are Luigi Mario.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mr. L froze. That name… Luigi sounded familiar, but he couldn’t really place it. Mario, though… Mario… what did he have to do with this all? He was not Mario for sure, but he also didn’t think he was Luigi.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N…. no.” he stuttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Preposterous.”, Jaydes scoffed loudly, “You are Luigi Mario. I’ve never gotten a name wrong before, and I do not intend to start now. However you must have come here, it must have been unmentionably traumatic, you poor thing.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>  “Mamma mia...” Mr. L grumbled. Why did he come here, he thought angrily as he began to look around the room for any escape to this asinine conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Jaydes leaned back against her throne and placed her head in her hand again, full attention on Mr. L. “So, then. Tell me. What do you remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “Well.. I remember my name is Mr. L,” Mr. L replied, putting extra emphasis on his real name, “and… I got into a fight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Oh, a fight?” Jaydes interrupted, intrigued. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Yes, a fight. And I lost, and then…”, Suddenly, anger flooded over Mr. L.He clenched his fists and jaw to keep himself from doing something irrational, and forced himself to continue, “And I was betrayed.” he finished with a spat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Very interesting. But how exactly did you meet your demise?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Oh, just say die!”, Mr. L snapped. He took another moment to remember and try and put his thoughts into English before continuing, “I was put in a box, and I was, uhm…. Blow up, that’s the word.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Jaydes thought. “Just blown up? That’s all?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Well! Blown up a lot!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “It’s just that -”, Jaydes paused, “Well, that doesn’t seem like it would have been enough to cause a total personality change.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Well then, I’m the wrong guy! Fuck off if you don’t believe!” Mr. L huffed. He began to turn and walk away, but Jayde’s cold hand gripped him by the arm and spun him right back around and yanked him right back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  As Mr. L looked up into Jaydes now angry, unforgiving face, his eyes got wide, and he felt like he practically melted into his boots out of fear. He had royally fucked up this time. He gulped loudly, and tried to find some other place for his eyes to rest other than Jaydes’ own sharp eagle stare, but she had pulled him in so close that there was no other place for him to look at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You have a lot of nerve coming in here and speaking this way to me. I’ve done more for you than you deserved. Now, I am going to give you one more chance. You will leave my castle and take a good, long walk.”, every word Jaydes spoke, she spit harshly. Mr. L almost felt like she was carving these instructions right onto the very being of his soul, “When you have sorted out your attitude issues, I expect you to return. Then - and only then - will I work this out, while you hold your tongue except only to answer questions. Got it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mr. L nodded meagerly, and Jaydes let go, causing him to stumble back and nearly fall over before he caught himself on the thick heels of his boots. He stood there, frozen and unsure of what to do as he trembled in fear of what Jaydes might say next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Now, you are dismissed, Luigi Mario.” Jaydes hissed, just as harshly as before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mr. L nodded again and slowly stepped backwards for a few steps, not taking his eyes off Jaydes, before he finally gathered the courage to turn completely around and run as far as away from the castle as he possibly could.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>  Eventually, Mr. L had no choice but to stop running and lean against a tree to catch his breath. He felt like his lungs would crumple in at any moment, and the muscles in his legs felt as though they had cooked under the heat of the pain he felt in them from running so far and hard. Mr. L had never felt so awful in his life, not even after being beaten up both times by Mario. Maybe it was the leftover fear from being threatened by Jaydes that was making it so much worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   When Mr. L managed to regain his senses, he took a moment to look around, and realized that he was absolutely lost. Unsure of what to do, but remembering Jaydes’ instructions, he began to just walk forward. For a while, as Mr. L walked, the anger he had had for Jaydes before she had snapped reignited, but eventually, this intense hatred subsided and was replaced with new, more relevant emotions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  It seemed the further he got from the castle, the most abstract the landscape became. Long ago, the trees and valleys had melded together into one hellish landscape, and the sky had grown so much darker than Mr. L had ever imagined possible as night approached for the first time since he had arrived here. Keeping his head low, Mr. L trudged through the swampy grass, still trying to keep his mind clear of the swirling mess of questions that still consumed him. No matter how hard he ran, though, they followed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  The one question looming over him the most hauntingly was “who’s Luigi Mario”? Supposedly, HE was Luigi Mario, but how could that be? How could he have lived a whole life as Mr. L, the stylish mechanic with the most potential out of his peers, and none of it be real? How could he instead be some loser with no sense of fashion and the same last name as that plumber asshole?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Well, he interpreted his own thoughts, did he live a whole life as Mr. L? Didn’t he ask Dimentio about not having any memories before meeting Dimentio, and get brushed off for it by that jester asshole?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  All of those missing pieces… all of those empty feelings and those sleepless nights… all of those questions Dimentio avoided… could they really be explained with something as absurd as his identity not being real? Mr. L shuttered. Dimentio had insisted before that it was just retrograde amnesia, and he liked that idea so much better. Amnesia was so clear cut and explained; very simple to understand. This idea that he’s actually Luigi - which to him was a being with no more meaning than a stranger he passed on the sidewalk -was horrifying, and complex. The more he tried to comprehend it, the worse his confusion got, until he couldn’t bear to think about it anymore, but he also couldn’t shake it out of his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Without warning, Mr. L collapsed onto his knees. He started to tremble violently as he held his hands over his ears and squeezed his head tight, as if trying to force the bad thoughts out by force. He felt as his eyes started to burn as all of the pain and emotions he had been hiding away for what must have been forever now flooded through as tears, only making him more upset. He just couldn’t take it anymore; he had to do something to get out of this mess. He didn’t care if he was Mr. L, or Luigi, or a goomba named Mido on an elaborate drug trip. He just needed OUT.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mr. L was still shaking, but he managed to pull himself to his feet through the struggle. He took a few minutes to recuperate and look around, but he ended up seeing just what he needed  just right in front of him - a  jagged river that spanned over the horizon and out of sight. At first, the murky black water in it looked calm at first from a distance, but as Mr. L approached it, trembling, and peered down into the river, he saw that it was rushing over rocks and whirlpools through its many twists and dips. Mr. L started to laugh to himself a little. So many new thoughts were racing through his mind as he felt both panic and relief at the same time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  This could be it, he thought hopefully, if I just jump in, it’ll certainly knock me out, and I won’t have to think about anything ever again. He  began to breathe rapidly, and he could feel his heart as it nearly exploded with adrenaline in his chest. Once he was in, there would be no turning back. Wherever this river took him and whatever it did to him, that would be the end of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Was it really worth it? To lose everything, just to get rid of a few bad thoughts? Well, Mr. L rationalized, I’m not real anyway. If I’m just some figment of some other guy's imagination, do I really have anything to even have to lose in the first place? Therefore, I have nothing real to lose, right? After all, I'm already in hell.. Might as well make the best of it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  With his mind tragically set on it, Mr. L took one final deep breath, and threw himself into the raging river. Instantly, the cold water flooded into his clothes and eyes as it  pulled him under. This must have caused some switch to flip itself back on, because Mr. L regretted his decision immensely as soon as he had touched the water’s surface. Despite the river’s aggressive flow, Mr. L managed to pull himself back above the surface for just enough time to take another gasp of air before being sucked back under again. Faced with the real consequences of his actions, Mr. L realized that he didn’t actually want to go through with this. He managed to pull above the surface every about 2 minutes, desperately looking around for something to pull himself out of the river as soon as his eyes hit the surface for those brief moments before he went under another time. Everytime he went back down was another time he was afraid he’d never come back up, so that’s why he wasn’t going to be picky when he did find anything to get him to safety - like a  log,  or a rock; just anything stable. There seemed to be nothing for long stretches, and then when there was anything, it was groups of things that managed to all be out of his reach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Much of the river was lined with thick walls of mud, but maybe he could find salvation in a thin part of the river bank. Just ahead of him by only a handful of yards, Mr. L could see a spot where the bank slopped into a ramp that looked just perfect for pulling himself up onto the land. It was on the opposite side of the river, but if he put all of his remaining strength into getting there, he should just be able to reach it. He recognized that the quickest way to reach the slope was to swim under the water with the current, so he  sucked in as much air as he possibly could on hopefully his last fight to the surface in this river, and dove beneath the surface and started swimming as fast as he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  The river pushed and pulled Mr. L as hard as it could, but he kicked even harder, and just when he thought he was going to make it, Mr. L felt as his leg was suddenly snagged, and his whole body was yanked backwards and deeper under the water. Mr. L panicked and grabbed his leg, trying to pull it away from whatever horror had a hold of it, but it was no use. No matter how hard he fought, it kept dragging him lower and lower into the unknown depths of the river. At this point, Mr. L had no other option left but to scream, but even that wasn’t viable underwater. Mr. L continued to struggle for as much longer as he could, but eventually, he couldn’t fight anymore. His body was too weak and his mind almost as broken. As water began to flood into his lungs, Mr. L tried to pull away weakly one last time, but it was no use at all. Now, the only thing left was rage. The rage he felt towards Dimentio. The rage he felt against Mario and Luigi. The rage he felt towards himself for jumping into the river.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  And then, again, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>        Nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <em><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</em>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Hot… every aching part of my body is searing hot….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>     Wait, no….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> Cold. Every aching part of my body is frigidly cold….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>  A voice called out from beyond the blackness. It sounded familiar, but yet unplaceable. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Luigi!!!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>  The voice was louder and clearer now. It was a man. Sounded somehow like someone who was close to the person he was looking for, whoever that was. He was very distressed. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <em>
    <span>LUIGI!!!!!!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>  Wait, Luigi? Who was that again? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Luigi sat up and opened his eyes. The sudden motion made him dizzy, though, and he nearly fell back over. After stabilizing himself against a nearby rock, he  began to cough, spitting out water that quickly evaporated all over the hot ground in front of him. He began to breathe heavily, and then it clicked with him that somehow, he was above the surface yet again. He was relieved, but was also very confused. Something about himself also felt very different, but he wasn’t sure what. He looked around, trying to figure out if he was anywhere familiar, but his vision was blurry and he couldn’t see well enough to tell if he recognized anything. Afraid of being lost in an unfamiliar place, anxiety began to overwhelm him and he felt as he started to shake. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>LU-I-GI!!!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>The yelling was louder than ever now, and Luigi couldn’t take it. He quickly pulled his hat down and held his balled fists against his ears in order to try and mute the loud, disturbing noise. He wished he had a place to hide, but the only thing he could see that would maybe work was the rock he was leaning against. Well, it was better than nothing, he thought as he groaned in pain. So, he turned towards the rock, curling down behind it, all while still shaking and covering his ears. He knew that the rock wouldn’t be enough to hide him from whoever was yelling, but he tried to convince himself that it was anyway, at least to prevent the anxiety from becoming enough to make him throw up.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Luigi!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>  Luigi felt as he was grabbed and spun around, and before he even had time to process what was going on, he was in a chokingly tight embrasse against the chest of who he could only assume had just been yelling. Though he was already soaked, Luigi could feel as the person who was holding him sobbed into his shoulder. Luigi was very uncomfortable, but when he tried to say something, the only thing that came out of his mouth were mostly meaningless semi-Italian sputters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Eventually, the death grip hug let up and Luigi was allowed a little bit of personal space. Although Luigi was still being held tight by his arms, the yeller pushed Luigi away enough for him to finally get a look at his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Luigi squinted his eyes and studied it for a moment, taking in all of the little details that might help him remember who this was. He wore an outfit similar to his own… and he had a large, round nose and a finely shaped mustache. Blue eyes. Somewhat disheveled brown hair under the hat, black hair under the nose. After looking at the man over three times, a name finally came to him. It was… Mario? Wait, Luigi was confused. The only memories of Mario he had were of fighting. He was his enemy? Maybe so, yet, despite the river of tears streaming down his face, Mario was smiling, clearly very relieved and overjoyed to have found Luigi. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  But then it clicked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  A jolt of memories flooded Luigi’s mind as he finally remembered everything. This was his brother - Mario. The bravest, the kindest, and the most genuine big brother Luigi could ever ask for. Scenes of different memories came to him now. He saw him and Mario fighting alongside each other in one memory, and in another, them struggling to make spaghetti together. He saw a memory of the two racing in karts and bikes, and one of a tense moment as Mario quickly tried to heal him after he had fallen in battle. There was one of the two in Peach’s Castle eating cake, and one of the sick, bloated aftermath the two faced after eating too much. And the last one - one of the two working on plumbing together in a flooded bathtub, and Luigi getting his foot stuck in the large drain, and Mario using all of his might to pull him back out. He saw memories of good times, and memories of bad times. He remembered the good in those bad times, and the bad in those good times. And he remembered being Mr. L. So bitter. So alone, and unfulfilled, and unsure of who he was. Luigi now felt that wholeness he was yearning for when he was unhappy as Mr. L. Those questions he had when he was working on brobot, those feelings he discussed that Dimentio had tried to repress - now he had his answers, and now everything made sense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “MARIO!”, Luigi cried out, pulling his brother back in for another, tighter hug and starting to cry, too, “Big bro, I’m - I’m so sorry. I didn’t know -” he was speaking Italian again, but this time, it was on purpose.  He was pretty sure he was back to his regular, passable level of English, but something about speaking English with Mario always felt somewhat wrong anyway. Luigi was much more fluent in Italian so he was able to express himself this way much better, too.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>  Mario was confused, but let Luigi have his moment like he had had his.. He couldn’t understand any of what Luigi was saying through the sniffling and crying, but he just held Luigi tight and let him cry it out. “It’s ok, little bro….”, Mario paused, and nearly choking up again, “I really missed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “I missed you, too.”, Luigi said as he finally let go of Mario (not because he wanted to, but more because he felt that maybe he was being annoying). He wiped his tears and sniffed one last time before managing to pull it together enough to say, “We have to stop Count Bleck! He’s going to destroy all worlds and -”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>  Mario began to laugh out loud, hard. “Bro, I know! That’s what I’ve been trying to do, but a bunch of crazy people kept getting in our way! But I think, now that we have you, we’re going to be unstoppable!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Luigi smiled faintly for a moment. “Wait, who is “we”?” Luigi looked around him, looking for who Mario might have been referring to. No one else was around, though, so he wasn’t sure what Mario meant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Me, and Peach and Bowser and Tippi.”, Mario explained. Suddenly, he looked surprised as he realized something, “Hoh! You haven’t met Tippi! She’s waiting for us back at Queen Jaydes’ castle, actually, we need to go get her so we can go look for Peach and Bowser, too, before we finally fight Bleck!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Oh!” Luigi replied, pretending to actually understand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “Come on, little bro. I can explain more on the way if you need.” With that, Mario began to run, beckoning Luigi to follow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Luigi nodded and started to follow, invigorated by the reignighted rage of Mr. L to finally put a stop to Dimentio’s, if no one else’s, plans. Right now, everything was pretty bad, but he was so happy to be back with Mario, that he felt as though he could do anything. This happiness was what Dimentio had taken away from him, and that filled Luigi with more rage than he had ever felt before in his life. If Dimentio wanted to fuck with Luigi, then Luigi was just going to have to play hard ball and show Dimentio what a mistake it is to mess with him and his bro.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter centers around Mr. L/Luigi after he is sent to the Underwhere. Scared and confused, he ventures to Queen Jaydes' castle. There, Mr. L learns that he's not who he thinks he is, and is confused to learn his real name is Luigi. Angry, Mr. L storms off to think about what Jaydes said and what that means for his identities. After ending up at the bottom of the river Twygz and spit back out on land in another unfamiliar place, he is rescued by Mario, and his whole memory floods back to him. Mr. L, now finally Luigi once more, then takes his brother's hand and pulls him in for a hug and the two quickly catch up before going to rejoin with Tippi at Jayde's castle, and vowing to find Peach and Bowser and finally end Bleck's reign.</p><p>  Also, if you like my work, please consider commenting! Even if it's just a simple few words on how the chapter mafe you feel, it means a lot and helps keep me wanting to write! Criticism is more than welcome as well, as long as it's constructive and genuine. :)<br/>- Michael</p>
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